Iowa Loam
by OceanTiger13
Summary: Jim Kirk, age ten, and his friends battle the horrors of Romulans, early bedtimes, and annoying girls.  Set when the Federation is just being formed, includes the whole Trek cast.  Rated T for slight violence, some language, and ten-year-olds.
1. Chapter 1

**Iowa Loam**

Chapter 1

2109. It was a big year for Planet Earth.

It was the centennial anniversary of U.S. President Barack Obama's inauguration and the deaths of Ted Kennedy and Michael Jackson. It was the seventy-fifth anniversary of the end of World War III. It was the sixtieth anniversary of the year that the Earthlings found out that they were not alone in the universe.

The world was suddenly becoming a much bigger place. The peoples of Earth and Vulcan were uniting to establish a Federation of Planets. Diplomats were meeting. Politicians were arguing. Historians were rejoicing. Trade was expanding. Allies—and enemies—were being made.

But the cares and worries of the universe were lost on the ears of children—lost to the laughter of the four young boys in the woods of Riverside, Iowa, currently engaged in a game of Spaceship.

"He went that way! C'mon, we can still catch him before he gets to Earth!"

"We have to get the other one! He's around here somewhere…"

"But the other one's a bigger threat!"

"Stop telling me what to do; I'm the captain!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well I'm staging a coup! C'mon, Engineer Scott, let's go!"

"What? Mutiny! Mutineeeee!"

"Attaaaaack!"

A lean, blond boy with ice blue eyes and a gleeful grin let loose a battle cry and launched himself at his Asian friend, who gave a yelp of mock terror and promptly slipped in the leaf litter, falling with a thud to his backside.

A skinny redhead standing a few feet away cracked a grin of his own and cried, in a thick Scottish brogue: "For Scotland! Charge!" He cupped his hands and made a noise like an ancient battle horn before joining his blond friend in the fun.

The Asian boy squealed as his mutineering crew started to tickle him. Thrashing about in the leaf litter, he managed to let out a giggled cry for help: "Nooooo! Ack! Noooo! Len! They're killing me! Ack—gaaaaack!" He made a few choking noises before crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue, and assuming the position of a dead cockroach.

A fourth boy—a taller, burlier one—appeared from behind a nearby sycamore.

"Ya know, you guys just let Earth get blown up by aliens," he announced in a slight Southern accent.

"Who cares? We're staging a mutiny!" the blond exclaimed. "C'mere, Len, I think we killed him."

The taller boy knelt by the Asian boy's head, poking him in the shoulder.

The Asian boy twitched ever so slightly for dramatic effect.

"Yup," the taller boy declared, "He's dead, Jim."

"Zombie!" the Asian boy suddenly shouted, sitting up and grabbing the blond by the shoulder.

Jim, the blond, jumped back with a screech of surprise.

"Braaaaaains…" the Asian boy breathed, pretending to drool as the tall boy and the redhead laughed. "Braaaaains…BRAAAAAINS!"

The three boys then ganged up on the blond, subjecting him to the tickle torture they'd inflicted on the now zombified Asian boy, tackling one another and screeching.

Finally, Jim drew an ancient yellow toy gun out of his belt, firing two of the orange, plastic darts into the air.

"Wait, wait, guys, stop a sec, I think I heard—Len, quit! I'm trying to hear! HEY!"

The gun clicked twice as the darts flew upward.

"What?" the taller one, Len, asked, bemusedly.

"I thought I heard something," Jim answered, scrutinizing the empty upward branches.

A large, orange-red leaf floated down from above, landing on his face.

"Jeez, Jim, it's just the wind."

"It's not just the wind, I _heard_ something."

The four boys sat in the dead leaves, straining their ears for the unknown sound their friend had picked up.

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear a voice on the faint October breeze.

"_Montgomery Scott!"_ it called, in a distant singsong.

"Ah, jeez," the redhead muttered, hearing his own name. "It's me mum, lads. Gotta go."

He rose, reluctantly waving goodbye as he crashed through the crackling leaves.

"See ya tomorrow, Scotty!" Jim called after him.

The other two chorused the same a second later as Scotty disappeared from view.

The Asian boy sighed, glancing up at the darkening cloudy sky.

"I should probably take off too, guys," he said, "I have to watch my sister tonight 'cause my mom's doing another law project again."

"'Kay. See ya tomorrow, Hikaru."

Hikaru ran off in the opposite direction, calling, "Braaaains!" evilly over his shoulder.

The two remaining boys exchanged glances.

"_You_ don't have to run out on me, do you?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nah," Len answered, with a shrug, "You know Gran and Gramps. They're completely oblivious. They wouldn't notice if I fell off the face of the earth."

Jim laughed. "C'mon," he said, "it's getting dark. Let's go to the playground."

"What's wrong with the woods?" Len asked.

"Nothing. Well, I mean, I heard something. Probably just an animal, but still."

Len frowned at Jim, curiously.

"Who are you and what didja do with Jim Kirk?" he questioned. "What ya heard was Scotty's mom."

Jim ran a hand through his floppy hair, thoughtfully. "Wasn't," he answered. "Besides, I like the playground."

"You like to loaf around at the playground, ya mean," Len corrected him.

"Yeah, yeah, shaddup," he said, grinning.

They rose, crunching through the crackling leaves as the slight breeze picked up to a minor whistle as it cut between branches.

"Seriously," said Len, "What's with you? You were never scared of any dumb ole raccoon."

"Y'know, it might've been something else," Jim told him, "Something other than a raccoon."

"Then you would've wanted to investigate it."

Jim shrugged.

"All right, fine. What was it then? A chupacabra?" Len asked, jokingly.

Jim looked at him seriously. "Maybe."

Len's face fell. "For reals?" he questioned, wide-eyed.

"I dunno," Jim answered, unhelpfully. "Or Bigfoot. It could always be Bigfoot." He cracked a grin, and Len realized he was being led on.

He slugged Jim in the arm, rolling his eyes.

The leaves underfoot eventually became cement sidewalk as they emerged onto Derby Drive, next to Old Man Archer's crumbling farm.

A few conversation-filled minutes passed before Jim and Len reached the playground.

The "playground" was not really a playground, but an abandoned lot where people dumped their old stuff. It was nicknamed "the playground" because the three broken-down antique cars, the stacks of wood for building forts, and the ancient shower bath made it a popular spot for the local misfit children.

It was full of old toys, old clothes, and old junk that no one wanted anymore. To the local kids, it was a treasure trove of wonders.

Half of the things Scotty had ever used to build, Hikaru had ever attached to his bike, Len had ever used to ward off his grandparents, and Jim had ever used to play pretend had come from the playground.

Jim climbed atop one of the rusty cars, stretching out on the roof and staring up at the cloud-patched sky.

"Check it out," he said, smiling, "You can see over the trees and into the sunset."

Len scrambled up the hood, flopping down on his stomach next to Jim.

"Cool," he said, indifferently, but Jim knew it was an act.

He kept his mouth shut about it and picked up a sycamore leaf caught between the window and the roof.

"What movie d'ya wanna watch on Halloween?" he asked, carving two holes in the leaf with his fingernails.

Len shrugged. "I dunno. Didja wanna watch an old stupid one, or a scary one?"

"A _scary_ one, duh," Jim told him. "But just 'cause it's old doesn't mean it's not scary. Hikaru said he asked his mom if we could watch _Silence of the Lambs_—"

"That's ancient!" Len protested, incredulously, "You can't be serious."

"The _remake_," Jim clarified, ominously.

"Ohhh. The _remake_. That's still really old, though."

"Apparently she said no 'cause it was too scary."

"Hmmm," Len mused, scratching at a bit of peeling red paint.

"I vote we watch it anyways, after she goes to sleep. We can play it real quiet so she won't hear anything—"

"Yeah, but do you have a volume knob for your screams?"

Jim drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't particularly tall, one hand on his hip and the other over his heart.

"I will not scream during _Silence of the Lambs_," he declared, solemnly.

"The remake," Len added, grinning, unable to resist the bet.

"The remake," Jim repeated.

"So swear you?"

"So swear I."  
"Good." Len poked Jim in the stomach, shouting, "Tag! You're it!" and sliding off the roof of the car, landing in a pile of old sweaters.

"You pile of slug guts!" Jim yelled, laughing as he started the chase.

* * *

Anyone passing the playground would've wondered what the two boys were doing out so late, why they weren't returning home. The answer was simple.

Neither one had the remotest desire to do so.

Five blocks away, 1588 Noonien Avenue, upstairs.

It was a typical little girl's room, with walls of light yellow and neat decorations to match the child's furniture, a crush can of stuffed animals beside the bed, and a colorfully painted dollhouse in the corner of the room.

It was here that sat a quartet of young girls, lost in conversation.

One of the girls, a tall, dark-blonde creature, was seated on the small desk at the end of the room, hosting a stuffed animal tea party.

"More _darjeeling_, Mr. Tribble?" she asked, smiling at the round, fuzzy stuffed animal in front of her. She then picked it up and squeezed it, and the creature made a soft cooing noise.

"What's '_darjeeling'_?" questioned a green-skinned girl with flaming-red hair, who was bouncing on the bed, chewing a large piece of bubble gum. She blew a large, salmon-pink bubble and popped it neatly back into her mouth.

"It's a kind of tea," the dark-blonde replied, pretending to pour tea into the fiberglass cup in front of her. "There, Mr. Tribble."

"Coo!" went the toy as she squeezed it again.

"You're quite welcome."

A dark-skinned girl with long, braided hair sat painting her nails. She cast a glance at her skinny, short, white-blonde friend, who was making a collage, brows creased, tongue sticking out at a meticulous angle, a slight smile curving her lips.

"Christine, what are you doing?" asked the dark girl, bemusedly.

The white-blonde, Christine, looked up with a slight start, her pale cheeks flushing pink. She gave them an embarrassed smile before pushing the collage over to her friend.

The green-skinned gum-chewer hopped off the bed onto the rug, bounding over as the dark-blonde slid off her perch to get a closer look.

Christine went a darker shade of pink, and said, sheepishly, "It's me and Leonard. At our wedding."

The image had been cut and pasted together to show a bride and groom standing before an altar at the beach. Their heads had been pasted over with the heads of a beaming girl, Christine, and a boy with short, wavy, dark brown hair and a shy smile.

"Are these your yearbook photos?" the dark-blonde, who was named Janice, asked, her mouth parting in an incredulous grin.

Christine cracked a grin of her own and nodded.

"Jeez, girl, you are obsessed," the green-skinned gum-chewer remarked, bending over to look at the collage.

"_Gaila,"_ protested the girl painting her nails, smacking her friend lightly in the shin, but smiling.

"What?" Gaila the gum-chewer put her hands on her hips, "It's the truth!"

"Well, like you're one to talk," Christine retaliated with a laugh, "Who was fawning over Jim Kirk all last year? 'Jim this, Jim that, Jim is so cool, I wish Jim would ask me over for a playdate.'"

"That," Gaila declared, "was different. I didn't go around making collages of us getting married or making giant valentines for him every week."

"Aww, come on, Gaila, we were all obsessed over somebody at some point," Janice spoke up, petting her tribble contentedly.

"You mean like _you_ and Jim two years ago?"

Janice grinned. "I wasn't the one who said it, Gaila."

Gaila rolled her hazel eyes, glancing down at the girl painting her nails. "What about you, Nyota? You like anybody at school?"

Nyota looked up, her dark, braided hair falling back as she did so. "Not really," she said with a shrug. "Nobody's really that worth it."

"Leonard's worth it," piped up Christine, but she was silenced with a look from Gaila, who plainly wanted to hear Nyota's rationale for her opinion.

"Leonard's always really sad or really grumpy," Nyota told her. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Chris, but it's true."

Christine shrugged. "I like him, even if he's needy."

"More like you're needy," Gaila muttered, then yelped as Janice poked her in the ribs.

"What about Hikaru?" Janice asked, looking up from her texting, "Or Scotty? They're cute."

"They're just like Jim, only he's their leader," Nyota answered, shrugging. "And Hikaru's got this weird fascination with bugs," she added, as an afterthought.

"I heard he could fly an antique jet plane," Gaila informed them.

"Oh, come on, what fifth-grader knows how to fly a jet plane?" Janice said dismissively.

"_He_ can."

"Can't."

"Can."

Nyota glanced over as Janice and Gaila began a highly academic debate over whether or not fifth graders could fly jet planes, then continued with her speech about boys to Christine.

"Besides," she said, modestly, "Nobody'd fall for me anyways."

"Don't say that!" Christine protested, her blue eyes wide.

"It's true." Nyota shrugged. "I'm ordinary."

"But you're really nice to everybody! And you're really good at dancing, and school, and everything!" Christine told her. "You can speak three languages, for crying out loud! Ny," she whined, "There's gotta be somebody. What about that new kid who lives on my street I told you about? The Russian kid?"

Nyota shrugged again, glancing over at Gaila and Janice, who were giggling and smacking one another with pillows.

"I dunno, Christine, he's way younger than me."

"Len's way older than me!"

"It's different for girls being older."

"Why?"

"I don't know, it just is."

"Gaila's older than Jim."

"Well, not a lot older."

"Same difference as you and the Russian kid."

"No way, really?"

Christine nodded, seriously. "Yep."

Nyota sighed, looking enviously over at Gaila, who had popped another stick of gum into her mouth, adding to the wad that was already there and working on another enormous bubble as she resumed jumping on the bed, trying to reach the ceiling.

"That Russian kid," Gaila spoke up between chews, "Why's he here anyways?"

"I dunno," Christine said, reaching for her collage and the cut up magazine she'd been using earlier. "He just came down the street and said hi, and he was nine, and then ran away."

"Weird," Janice remarked.

"His dad was wearing some kinda military uniform."

"Weirder," Gaila commented.

"You guys want popcorn?" Nyota asked, standing and heading for the door, not liking where the conversation was going.

"Sure," the others chorused.

As Nyota left her room and turned right towards the staircase, she sighed again. She was, after all, a very ordinary girl.

* * *

2251 Bay Road, two blocks back.

"_Pasha_," chided an old woman, looking down at the small boy sitting across from her.

The small boy looked up from the microscope he'd brought to the dinner table. He had short, curly, mousy brown hair and sparkling light brown eyes.

The old woman, bent, gray-haired, and wrinkled, began to scold him in Russian: "_What did your father say about bringing your science projects to the table?"_

The boy responded. "_My father isn't here,"_ he protested, "_The test should give its results soon."_

"_I'm here,"_ the old woman answered. "_Now come on and eat your food."_

"_Five minutes, Nyanya."_

"_Nyet, boy."_

The small boy pouted, his lower lip jutting out, his shoulders slumping, a frown fixed on his face.

Nyanya smiled. _"You know,"_ she told him, kindly, _"Having these materials you're testing in close contact with your food could mess up the results, and then where would you be?"_

The boy's eyes went wide, and he pushed back his chair, hopping down, snatching the microscope off the table and dashing down the hall to his room.

Nyanya chuckled to herself, spearing a bit of broccoli on her fork and munching on it.

A moment later the boy reappeared, looking intensely relieved as he took his seat and resumed eating his food with vigor.

Nyanya looked fondly at him for a moment before asking, "_So, why didn't you stay and talk with that little girl? She looked nice enough."_

"_I had things to do," _the boy answered, calmly.

"_Like what?"_

"_My experiments."_

Nyanya smiled at him. "_You and your experiments,"_ she said, "_You're so cute."_

The boy froze halfway through a slurp of his _borscht_. Slowly he put down his spoon, looking her straight in the eye, and said, defiantly, "_Nyanya. I am not _cute. _Babies are cute. I am not a baby. I am…I am devious."_

Nyanya chuckled and took a sip of her sweet tea, reaching over and tousling the boy's hair.

The boy ducked out of her reach, pouting, ready to retaliate when the front door swung open in the next room over.

All anger instantly fled the boy's mind as he hopped out of his chair and ran to the front door, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Papa!" he cried, dashing up to the tall, thin man in the doorway.

The man, clad in a black Starfleet uniform, cracked a wide grin and swept the boy into a hug.

"Hello, Pavel," he said, in English, his words coated with a heavy Russian accent.

Nyanya appeared in the doorway, a wry smile curving her old, dry lips.

"_How was the meeting?"_ she asked the man.

"_It went well," _he answered as his son started to herd him towards the kitchen.

"_What did they talk about?" _the boy, Pavel, asked eagerly as he sat back down, kicking his feet back and forth beneath the table in excitement.

The man took a seat between Pavel and Nyanya, smiling mysteriously at the little boy.

"_All sorts of things," _he said, mysteriously.

"_Like what?" _the boy questioned, wide-eyed.

"_Oh, I can't tell you, it's top secret."_

"_I won't tell!"_

"_You swear it?"_

"_Yes!"_

"_Under scrutiny? Under torture? Even the threat of death?"_

Pavel stood up on his chair and saluted his father, an expression of determination on his young face. "_Da!" _he exclaimed.

His father laughed as Nyanya told him to get his behind back into his seat.

"_All right," _he relented, "_But remember…what happens at this table stays at this table."_

Pavel nodded, looking intently at him.

"_They say that something is stalking the town. It started at the shipyard, Pavel. You know, where Mr. Pike works."_

The boy nodded again, remembering a man close to his father's age, who was also a Starfleet officer.

"_Now it's moving this way," _his father continued, his voice rising, "_Coming to this town…coming to eat up little boys who don't finish their dinner!"_

He lunged at his son, grabbing him by the shoulder, making him jump in surprise.

"_So finish your borscht, or else it'll come and get you in the dead of night…"_

"_Alexi!"_ interjected Nyanya, swatting Pavel's father on the arm, "_You'll give him nightmares."_

"_He's a strong boy. He can take it_."

Pavel beamed and took a last slurp of soup before jumping off his chair and calling over his shoulder, "_I'll fight it to the death!"_

Nyanya rolled her eyes knowingly, sipping more of her tea. "_He's doing another experiment, you know," _she announced, "_Brought it to the table. I had him put it back in his room."_

Alexi glanced off to the wall where there hung a picture of four people: Him, Pavel, Nyanya, and another younger woman with long, dark hair and a smile on her face, and Pavel's light brown eyes.

"_He is so brave," _he sighed as he studied his wife's face. "_If Sophie were here, she would be so proud."_

* * *

Xena Apartment Complex, Uptown.

"Mother, I still do not understand—"

"Oh, sweetheart, do I have to keep explaining this to you?"

"But your logic is not sound—"

"Come on; help me set the table."

"Why must I be subjected to such torture—"

"Your father's going to be home any minute, Spock, so please, help me out here. We can discuss this over dinner."

In the small kitchen of apartment number 415 there stood two people: a young boy with slanted eyebrows, pointed ears, and pale, green-tinged skin, the other his willowy, dark-haired mother.

The boy, Spock, regarded his mother without expression.

_He's gotten so good at that, _his mother thought as she stared at him, holding up three plates in her slim hands. _Just like his father._

"Mother," Spock began his protest again, "I do not see the logic in sending me to a Terran school. I will not receive the same level of education as before. You and father are well-educated. Would it not be logical to have you two teach me?"

His mother sighed, placing each plate on a placemat at the table in front of her. "Spock," she said, slightly exasperated, "Your father and I have been busy with the alliance. You know that. We don't have the time to teach you and work all at once. And besides—" she gave him a strained smile, "—it'll be good for you to meet new people—make new friends. Experience a different culture than you're used to."

"Your point about making new friends is illogical, mother, as I had no friends on Vulcan to begin with," Spock told her, walking back around the breakfast bar to retrieve utensils and napkins.

"Oh, don't be so negative, Spock. It'll be fun."

Spock sighed heavily, glancing at his reflection in the oven window. As far as he had seen, no one had had a haircut like his on Earth, at least since the 20th Century.

He didn't have high hopes about "making friends" as his mother had put it.

And something would have to be done to cover his ears.

_A hat, _he thought, _a "beanie", as it is called. That would take care of my ears and my hair at the same time._

At that moment, the front door opened to reveal a tall man with dark hair and pointed ears to match Spock's. He had the same pale, green-tinged skin and emotionless expression.

Despite the man's cool demeanor, Spock's mother rushed over and pulled him into a hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

The man smiled almost imperceptibly, but it went unmissed by any member of the household—they were all used to it and knew what it meant.

"Hello, Father," Spock said, as calm as ever, "I was just voicing my opinion of the decision to send me to a Terran school with Mother."

Spock's mother sighed heavily. "Spock, don't think that you'll get a different answer by asking your father the same question."

Spock's father, Sarek, relented: "It is all right, Amanda; I will hear what he has to say."

Amanda opened her mouth to answer, but changed her mind, and smiled at her husband, turning back into the kitchen.

Sarek took a seat across from Spock, gesturing for him to begin his argument.

"I do not understand your logic in sending me to a Terran school. Surely you understand that I will not receive the same curriculum as I would on Vulcan," Spock restated, this time waiting for a reply.

"You seem to be of the opinion that different is bad," Sarek answered, raising an eyebrow.

Spock hesitated for the briefest second before replying. "Not that different is bad, but that I may not receive the same level of education here."

"Spock, listen to me. We cannot judge the educational system of Earth based upon facts that we do not yet have. Perhaps Earth offers a lower level of education to your peers; perhaps it offers a higher level. But you cannot know that until you experience it," Sarek told him, "In addition, your mother and I believe that it would greatly benefit you to take part in Earth's culture."

"Benefit me how?" Spock questioned, his slanted eyebrows creasing as he frowned.

"In the sense that it would…Amanda, what is the phrase?" Sarek called to his wife.

"'Expand your horizons,' dear," Amanda said, as she carried a large pot of pasta to the table.

"Precisely," Sarek concluded.

Spock sighed, knowing he had lost. "Very well," he said, dully, "I will attempt to…expand my horizons."

"A wise decision," Sarek agreed, rising to help Amanda with dinner.

* * *

The sun had now set on Riverside, Iowa. Twilight was beginning to give away to darkness as street lamps flickered on and families settled down to dinner.

At the playground, Jim and Len had made it through three games of tag, a couple rounds of gin rummy with an ancient deck of cards they'd found in the glove compartment of one of the cars, and another short-lived game of Spaceship. (Starfleet was again victorious over the Klingon Armada.)

Now Len was glancing up at the shadowy sky with distinct unease.

"Hey, Jim," he said, "It's getting kinda late. I think I oughta take off. Gran and Gramps may be oblivious, but if I'm not at dinner, they'll suspect something's up."

Jim, who had been tinkering with the car antennae and a couple of rusty washers and shredded bandannas, looked up, his expression going from curiosity to disappointment in an instant.

"Oh," he said, "Okay. Sure."

Len felt a twinge of guilt. Jim's mom had been off planet for a week now, and would be back until about Halloween, leaving Jim alone with his stepfather.

But, he reasoned, it was getting late, and while his grandparents had never really shown any concern in the hours he kept, he knew showing up late for dinner wouldn't do.

Jim, he could see, was struggling to keep a friendly smile on his face.

Slowly, Len waved at him as he headed away from the playground. "See ya tomorrow?" he asked, trying to keep the mood light.

"Sure," Jim answered, managing a fuller smile this time, waving back.

Len turned and started off back home. _Sorry, Jim, _he thought, grimacing as he turned away.

He crossed the street and cut through Farmer Barrett's cornfield, then walked up Bay Road, taking a left on Arbor Street and entering the old, Victorian-style house on the corner.

He heaved a sigh, wishing he still could've been playing at the playground with Jim.

He approached the enormous mahogany doors, opening one and walking into the living room, taking off his shoes on the rug and putting them neatly under the nearby bench.

Glancing over at the fireplace, he noticed a haughty-looking Siamese cat, glaring down at him in the dim light, with a single yellow eye that followed him as he crossed the room. The other eye was shut, with a ropy scar stretched across its lid: a souvenir from a violent scrap with an angry calico a couple of years back.

Len watched it warily as he crossed over to the kitchen, entering the warmly lit room where he was greeted by a serene, white-haired woman with light blue eyes and a wrinkled smile on her face.

"There you are," she said, in a thick Southern accent, "I was gettin' a little worried about you. How's Jack doing?"

"Jim," Len corrected her, "It's Jim, Grandma."

"Oh, right…well, how's Jim, then?" she asked.

Len stared at the floor. "He'll be fine," he said, quietly, wishing he could believe it.

Jim waited for only a few minutes after Len left before heading down Derby Drive to home.

_Or what somebody could think was a home, _he thought, now three blocks away from the playground, walking next to the shadowy cornfield, the leafy stalks rising high above his head.

_Snap._

Jim froze in mid-step as a sharp noise sounded nearby. He whirled around to look down the dusty road. It was empty.

_It's your imagination, Jim, _said a voice, that sounded suspiciously like Len's, in his head.

_No, it's not,_ he argued with it, turning back to check in front of him. _There's something out here._

_It's some jerk from school trying to scare you, or something. It's getting dark. Go home._

_But something's out here._

Mind-Len's voice took on an irritated edge. _Ya know what happens to kids who stay out too long after dark? Bad stuff, Jimmy._

_I'm not scared of monsters._

_It's monsters who you should be scared of, Jim. It's people._

Jim managed to snap himself back to reality and resume walking, not responding to Mind-Len's retort because, deep down, Jim knew he was right.

He glanced over his shoulder a second time as he moved ahead. Len may not have believed it, but he had heard something out in the woods, and it definitely had not been a raccoon—or, for that matter, Scotty's mom.

Saturday would allow time for further investigation, he decided, as he tramped up the path to the old farmhouse at the end of the street, past a broken gate on creaking hinges.

From outside, glancing towards the dinghy living room window, Jim could see the flickering light of the TV.

_Good_, he thought, a small spark of hope welling up inside him, _Maybe he's asleep. Or too drunk to bother getting up. Or both._

Slowly, he opened the paint-peeled front door, trying to be as quiet as possible, slipping inside and beginning to sneak toward the stairs—

"You're late," said a cold voice to his right.

_Slug guts,_ Jim thought as he turned to face his stepfather.

Frank Gallagher had married Jim's mother shortly after Jim's father's death off-planet, and Jim had hated him from the start. He was a tyrant in the Kirk household, assigning extra chores wherever he could, and dealing out harsh punishment when the chores weren't completed in time, or to his liking. Jim's mother was no help. She knew nothing about Frank's bad relationship with her son, and was often off-planet, working on agricultural projects with the government's economy board.

Frank was standing in the living room doorway, unshaven, a cold beer in his hand—_Probably not his first,_ Jim thought—and a colder look on his face. Tall and lanky, he loomed over Jim, his short, curly, graying hair partially silhouetted by the flickering light of the TV.

"I'm not late," Jim told him, defiantly.

"You sure as hell are, kid," he answered, "You come back home this late again and I'll whip your ass."

"You said seven. It's six fifty. I'm early."

"Don't get smart with me. I'm warning you." Frank pointed a finger at Jim, turning back to the TV.

Jim bit back the retort riding the tip of his tongue. It wasn't worth the beating he'd get for it. Muttering insults under his breath, he turned on his heel and headed upstairs to the sanctuary of his room.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Six hundred miles above Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth:

In the crushing silence of space, hovering ominously over the blue planet there was a single massive spaceship, cloaked and still, invisible to the eyes of the Earth satellites.

It was time.

From a docking bay at the bottom of the ship there emerged several more ships, all shaped like flat disks with several thick rings surrounding a center circle, each one fading into the stars as its cloaking device kicked in, as it left the ship and began its descent into Earth's atmosphere.

As the ships moved in, one of the ship's cloaks flickered for a moment, and then returned to normal. Upon entering the lower atmosphere, the ships slowed their downward descent, and then broke ranks and started off in different directions. The flickering ship's cloak glitched again for a moment, and then it returned to normal as the ship started to move East across the United States.

Starfleet Headquarters, Communications Division:

Lieutenant Carl Henson ran a hand through his curly red hair and frowned at his console. Had his eyes betrayed him, or had he just seen a flicker of activity over the Bay?

"Commander Broom," he called, staring at the spot where he'd seen the flicker.

Commander Broom stepped over, her long, brown hair swaying from side to side as she did so.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Henson blinked. It was late, and he _was_ tired. "Ah…" he began, hesitantly, "…never mind."

* * *

That evening at the Riverside Police Station, chaos reigned supreme. It was the only station within twenty miles of the farms in the surrounding area, making it the only place for people to take their problems—missing cows, abusive spouses, vandalism, the works.

That was the nice thing about Riverside, reflected Sheriff Luciana Kaddington. It was ordinary. Nothing strange ever happened there. Except tonight.

Kaddington was sitting in her office, pinching the bridge of her nose as she picked up the tenth call transferred to her desk that evening.

Outside, the station was a flurry of activity—Phones ringing off the hook, voices shouting, and the few officers manning the station running in and out of the transporter to check on the farms out in the middle of nowhere.

"Sheriff?" slurred the familiar voice of Quinn, a paranoid drunk who was constantly calling the police on false alarms. Quinn's image flashed up onto the communications screen.

Kaddington sighed heavily, her lips thinning. "What is it, Quinn?" she asked, wearily.

"It's the goddamn animals actin' all spooked again. They're actin' like it's gonna be an earthquake or somethin' of the sort…I dunno," Quinn mumbled, scratching his ear.

"Quinn, if you don't have an actual emergency, then don't waste my time!" Kaddington snarled at him. She was in no mood to deal with Quinn's idiocy.

"S'not just me, Luce," he answered, taking a swig of some electric blue liquid out of a bottle, his gray, bloodshot eyes staring fuzzily at a point somewhere off the screen, "Weird shit's happenin'."

"Weird shit's always happening to you."

"Yeah? What's all this stuff I keep hearin' 'bout weird red lights poppin' up all over the place?"

Kaddington glared at him. Having no explanation for him, she changed the subject.

"That had better not be what I think it is, Quinn," she growled, "You know it's illegal."

Quinn blinked in confusion. "What, this?" he slurred, "S'kool aid."

At that moment, the door to Kaddington's office swung open and her deputy, Charles Riley, a ginger-haired man in his mid-twenties, entered, holding a PADD in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

"Here," he said in a London accent, handing her the coffee, "That's regular. We're in for a long night. Commander Christopher Pike is on the line for you, ma'am."

"Thanks, Charlie," Kaddington said, grateful for an excuse to get off the line with Quinn.

"Juss' kool aid, I swear," Quinn was mumbling as she switched off his screen and brought up an image of a man in his mid-thirties with short, light brown hair and pale blue eyes, wearing a black Starfleet uniform.

"Commander Pike," Kaddington said, pushing a stray lock of her own dark hair behind her ear, "What can I do for you?"

Pike sent her a grim smile. "I'm sure you're a bit swamped right now, but something's going down here at the shipyard. I was wondering if you could come over and take a look."

"Your scientists can't explain it?" she questioned, jokingly, raising her eyebrows.

Pike glanced down, then back up at Kaddington's eyes. "Not yet," he said, "But since the shipyard's only a few miles from the town, I figure you have a right to know."

Kaddington smile faded as she stared at him. "A right to know what, Pike?" she demanded.

He glanced around, warily. "Just come over," he said, "I'll show you."

"Listen, I'm already busy!" she protested, "People have been reporting more weird stuff than I can handle tonight as it is; spooked animals, drunk hallucinations, more than just the usual crap, and over half of it still needs to be verified—"

Pike interrupted her. "Something punched a hole in one of the shuttles, Luce."

Kaddington stopped, blinking. "Something…" she repeated.

"Like it was made of paper," he said, nodding slightly.

Kaddington let this process in her mind for a few moments before rising from her seat and nodding. "Be right there," she said, calmly, snatching her jacket off the coat rack in the corner and heading out of her office for the transporters.

* * *

Riverside Shipyard, 10:45 p.m.

Sheriff Kaddington shuddered slightly in the nighttime October chill as she stepped out of the transporter into the outside area of the Riverside Shipyard, where Commander Pike stood waiting for her, his "business-as-usual" grimace on his face.

"Luce," he said, nodding shortly.

"Pike," she replied. "Where's the shuttle?"

"Follow me," he told her, starting off in the direction of the shuttles.

Kaddington followed him, frowning. "I sense there's more to this than your precious spacecraft," she said.

"Before I tell you anything, you should know that this is very sensitive information," he said, "so it would be wise to not tell anyone else."

"Cut to the chase," she countered, irritably, "I get the top secret crap, now tell me what's been going on."

Pike took a deep, patient breath. "One week ago, crop circles began to appear in areas of concentrated Starfleet activity," he began, "San Francisco, Moscow, Marseille, Nairobi. People began to notice strange things happening."

Kaddington folded her arms as they turned a corner.

"What kinds of things?" she asked, skeptically.

"Just…strange things," Pike replied, vaguely. "Nothing specific, but things that are out of the ordinary. Damaged crops. Disappearing electrical signals. Shadows in the night."

Kaddington raised her eyebrows. " 'Shadows in the night'," she said, flatly.

Pike grimaced. "Suspend your disbelief for a moment and think about it, Luce. This might not be a coincidence."

"Oh yes, _'crop circles'_, and _'shadows in the night'_," Kaddington mimicked, "And you think this might be happening to little Riverside as well?"

"Well, Riverside is an area with a high population of Starfleet personnel," Pike replied, calmly.

Kaddington rolled her eyes. "I think you're paranoid," she said, bluntly.

"Then how do you explain this?"

Pike stopped in front of a patch of ground that had been roped off with caution tape, where there sat a standard-issue Starfleet shuttle, the usual gunmetal gray color and boxy shape…but on the side, in the center, there was a hole about the size of a watermelon, as if a cannon had been fired at it.

Kaddington stared at the shuttle in silence for a moment before concluding, shortly, "It's a prank."

Pike stared at her. "A prank," he repeated.

She nodded, curtly. "A prank." She turned to him. "Some anarchy group or some stupid teenagers are trying to inspire fear in Starfleet by making crop circles and punching holes in shuttles near Starfleet concentrated areas."

Pike looked between Kaddington and the shuttle in disbelief. "_How?_" he questioned.

Kaddington snorted. "Come on, Pike, making a crop circle isn't exactly hard to do—kids were doing it in the twentieth century, for crying out loud."

"What about the shuttle?" Pike asked. "The titanium alloy used in the shuttle hull is made to be impervious to _meteor showers_. What teenager has the technology to punch a hole through that? How could they have done it?"

Kaddington seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before answering: "…I…_somehow_, okay?" she snapped, irritably, "I don't know! They just did. It's a prank."

Pike frowned at her. "Luce, I don't think it is. We've had our analysts run the numbers, and there is an unusually high number of crop circles close to Starfleet installations."

"Well I do. And don't forget—I'm in charge of the Riverside investigation, Pike," she said, curtly. "Besides, it's not like we've found any crop circles here."

The two of them stared at one another, each one waiting for the other to speak. A few tense moments passed, then—

"Sherriff! Commander Pike!"

Pike and Kaddington turned at the sound of Deputy Riley's London accent, atypical for the cornfields of Iowa.

"It's Farmer Barrett, ma'am," Riley said, "he's just called in—he wants to file a complaint against some of the local teenagers. Says they've mowed down part of his cornfield."

Pike and Kaddington exchanged glances.

Pike gave Kaddington a meaningful look and said, "Well, Luce, looks like we've got a cornfield to investigate."

Kaddington's lips thinned. "I guess so," she shot back.

She then turned to Riley and started back towards the exit.

Pike stared at her as she did so.

"I guess so," he repeated, to no one in particular.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and chilly, with a fresh downpour of warmly colored leaves into the streets of Riverside.

First thing after breakfast (leftover pizza for Jim, grits and eggs for Len, rice and fish for Hikaru and porridge for Scotty) the four boys met up at the edge of the woods for a second round of Spaceship, Hikaru showing up a little later than expected because he'd had to help his mother rake the lawn. He promised to make up for this by hosting an Olympic leaf-pile diving contest later that day at his house, with hot chocolate for the victors.

" 'Kay then, lads," Scotty said, eagerly, "How're we dividing the teams?"

"Whatever way it happens, Hikaru does _not_ get to be captain," Len announced, laughing slightly as he shuffled his feet in the dry leaves.

"Whaaaat?" Hikaru demanded, "Why not?"

" 'Cause you're _terrible_ at it."

"Like you'd be any better."

Len rolled his eyes. "That's because I'm the CMO. I don't lead people, I save them. Come on, Jim, back me up here."

All three boys turned to Jim, who was scrutinizing the branches of the trees above, not responding.

"Jim," Len repeated, poking him in the arm.

"What?" Jim asked, suddenly looking back at them.

"Back me up—Hikaru can't be captain 'cause he's awful at it."

"I can be captain if I like—" Hikaru protested, crossing his arms.

"Actually," Jim interrupted, "I think we should look for that thing I heard yesterday."

"What thing?" Hikaru and Scotty asked in unison.

Len gave a huge sigh, rolling his dark eyes at the sky. "The thing that was either some kind of animal or Scotty's mom."

"Oh, _thanks_ Len," Scotty said, annoyed.

"It wasn't just an animal!" Jim insisted. "It was something else."

"Like what?" questioned Hikaru, his black eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Some kinda monster?" Scotty asked, his eyebrows raised.

Len scoffed, crossing his arms and turning away. As usual, Hikaru and Scotty were getting sucked into one of Jim's harebrained schemes, and in their club it was always a majority-rule, where Jim, Hikaru and Scotty usually won.

Jim had them reeled in now. He grinned, nodding furiously. "Yeah!" he said, enthusiastically, "Like a…a…like a chupacabra, or something!"

"What the heck is a chupacabra?" asked Scotty.

"It's a monster that eats goats," Jim said.

"Oh, ye mean like a banshee!" Scotty volunteered.

"Or an oni," Hikaru added.

"Sort of," Jim said, "only a chupacabra eats goats."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, quit with the stupid chupacabra!" Len burst out, throwing up his arms, "Besides, that's only in Mexico and South America."

"And Central America," Hikaru added.

"I didn't say it _was_ a chupacabra," Jim told Len, a wry smile on his face, "I said _like_ a chupacabra."

"I want tae catch a chupacabra!" Scotty shrieked, punching the air in elation.

"All right!" Jim said, grinning, "Who wants to go on a monster hunt? All in favor say aye and raise your hand!"

Three hands shot up in almost perfect unison, accompanied by a chorus of ayes.

Jim, Hikaru and Scotty all turned to Len, who had not spoken.

"Len, ye don't want tae catch a monster?" Scotty asked, curiously, cocking his head to one side like a puppy.

Len shook his head fervently. "No," he said, flatly, "Tell you the truth, I'd rather play Spaceship."

Jim shrugged. "We can play Spaceship later, at Hikaru's house."

"Yeah," Hikaru spoke up, "There's some old theater knives in the dress up box you can use for your trak—trach…trakeymu…um…cutting people's windpipes open…thingy," he finished, lamely.

"Tracheotomy," Len corrected him, irritably, "I'm not going on any dumb monster hunt."

Scotty and Hikaru exchanged glances of anxiousness, both of them hoping that Len's words wouldn't result in a fight.

Jim looked at the leaf-strewn ground for a moment before meeting Len's eyes again. To everyone's surprise, he cracked a smile.

"Y'know, Len," he began, "We actually probably need a doctor to come with us on the monster hunt. Just in case somebody gets hurt."

"Dangit Jim, I'm a kid, not a doctor," Len sniped.

"Yeah…well…" Jim paused, looking away then back again, wearing a tiny smile, "…you're the closest thing we've got."

The following silence hit Len like a train. Of course, it was all pretend. There was no monster, he told himself as Jim, Hikaru and Scotty looked expectantly at him, so there was no risk.

_But, _said a voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Jim's, _Jim thought it was in the trees, so they'll be climbing. There's a risk there…_

Len bit his lip, avoiding his friends' eyes. He knew he would never be able to forgive himself if one of them got hurt without him there to help…

"Len?" Hikaru asked, concern creeping into his tone.

Len finally snapped. "All right, all right!" he relented, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "I'll come monster-hunting."

Jim's tiny, humble smile turned into a fully-fledged grin as Scotty and Hikaru cheered and did a victory dance behind him. Then he turned around and led them into the woods.

The monster hunt consumed a good two hours of the morning, during which the four boys scoured the whole of the small patch of woods, from the leaf-litter to the treetops (at least, as far as they could go before the branches got too thin), poking sticks into holes in the roots, hoping that a clawed hand would swipe out from below and prove that the monster was real.

Hikaru and Scotty started out the hunt with almost as much enthusiasm as Jim, but eventually they lost taste in the prospect of catching a monster and selling it to the circus, even if the money could pay for about seven or eight new hoverboards, according to Jim. Nearing the end of the two hours, both of them were in full goof-off mode, jumping out at each other, Jim and Len from behind trees, sword-fighting with sticks, and tickle-torturing each other.

Len, while reluctant to participate in the actual searching of Jim's fantastical creature, was greatly relieved he had decided to come along in case of injury.

He took the opportunity to perform three tracheotomies, to use his own scarf to wrap up a set of broken ribs, and to reattach many of Scotty's and Hikaru's limbs, which kept getting cut off during their sword fights.

Jim seemed to be the only one taking the monster hunt seriously. He went up every tree, looked in every hole, and poked between every root with such concentration that it seemed to Len that he was actually believed he'd heard a monster the day before.

He was the first one into the woods, and, by the time they'd finished, the last one out.

As they started off for Hikaru's house, Len caught him hanging back, frowning up into the trees, as if angry that the creature had evaded him.

_He really does believe there's something there, _Len thought, glancing between Hikaru and Scotty, and Jim.

"Jim," he called.

Jim turned around as if jolted out of a dream.

"Come on," he said, "Leaf-diving contests and hot chocolate await!"

The blond monster-hunter took one last glance at the trees, then nodded once and followed Len toward Farmer Barrett's cornfield.

"Len!" Hikaru called, from a good fifty feet away, "Can I take this off now?" He tugged at the navy blue scarf tied around his waist that was supporting his broken ribs.

"Yeah, it's healed," Len answered.

Hikaru then began an epic battle with the scarf's tight knots, trying to pry it loose as Scotty danced ahead of him, singing "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer" at the top of his lungs.

Jim cracked up laughing at this sight, then promptly managed to get "Gopher Guts" stuck in his head, and started humming it absentmindedly.

Len looked up at the cloudy sky in silence, trying to pick out shapes as he walked. _There's a great white shark_, he thought, _and a dragon, and a centaurian slug, and a yeti, and a werewolf and…_ He stopped abruptly, realizing that all he could see were monsters. He focused his attention on the cornfield ahead with a sigh.

"You really think there's a monster?" he asked then, looking over at Jim, who was turning in circles as they crossed the last patch of dirt before they reached the cornfield.

Jim kicked at a dry leaf, watching it skid ahead, then float back on the breeze. "I told you," he said, casually, "I heard something. It wasn't just some animal."

"But how do you know?" Len questioned, "How do you know it wasn't just a raccoon?"

"Well, for one thing raccoons are nocturnal."

"You know what I mean, Jim."

Jim's wry smile returned. "I've just got a gut feeling," was all he said.

They reached the cornfield.

Stepping between the tall stalks, the four boys entered a maze of vegetation, where the fastest way out was to walk as straight as you could and hope you made it to the other end without it turning out that you'd gone five-hundred yards out of the way.

Scotty and Hikaru had started in with a few seconds' head start, and were chatting contentedly.

"Havin' _issues_, laddie?" Scotty teased lightly, as Hikaru struggled with Len's scarf.

"No more than you do mentally," Hikaru answered, with a grin. "There. _Finally_." He pulled the scarf off and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hey, ken I have dinner at your place tonight?" Scotty asked, walking backwards between the corn stalks.

Hikaru raised his eyebrows. "Sure," he said, "if my mom's okay with it. Why?"

"Thanks. It's me mum. She's makin' haggis. _Again_."

Hikaru looked curiously at his redheaded friend. "What's haggis?"

Scotty grinned widely, and started to explain in graphic detail exactly what haggis was.

"Well," he began, brightly, "What it _is_, is ye take an sheep, an' ye cut it open. After s'dead, a'course. Then ye take out it's intestines, an' ye cook 'em stuffed with…what?" Scotty broke off, catching sight of Hikaru's disgusted expression.

Hikaru's mouth hung open in incredulity. "That's _nasty!_" he exclaimed, with a laugh.

"Well, it's no worse than eatin' raw fish," Scotty said, defensively. "Although it does get old after a bit," he admitted. Then: "_What?_ Hikaru, it's just sheep guts!"

Hikaru had stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed, staring at a point over Scotty's shoulder.

"Turn around," he said, slowly, pointing to the redheaded boy's left.

Scotty turned. His jaw dropped.

It was the corn.

A large section of the corn about fifteen feet in width had been crushed.

Not cut. Not harvested. Not burned.

_Crushed._

_It's like standing in a hedge maze_, Hikaru thought as he glanced left and then right, noticing that the flattened section of corn rounded off in both directions in what was probably a circle_._

"That's bizarre," he said, blinking, "You think it's a Halloween prank?"

No response.

He looked over at Scotty, whose mouth was still hanging open.

"_Scotty."_

Scotty jumped as Hikaru nudged him in the ribs, hard.

But neither of them got the chance to say anything else before the familiar sounds of young-boy conversation sounded just behind them, and Jim and Len appeared out of the corn.

Both boys stopped in their tracks, eyes widening.

"What the—" Len began, staring at the crushed crops in amazement.

"What _happened?"_ Hikaru demanded to no one in particular.

"It wasn't like this yesterday when I cut through here to go home," Len said.

"Somethin's jes not right about this, lads," Scotty added, glancing around like a skittish rabbit, "This is nae natural."

"Got that right," Len answered, "it's bizarre."

"I dinnae like this, lads. Not at all."

"How did it happen?"

Jim was silent as the others started to hypothesize possible answers to the mystery. His ice blue eyes were wide and fixed on the corn, his mind racing furiously.

_This can't be a coincidence_, he thought, a sudden thrill of shock jolting into his stomach.

Images of the monster hunt and the odd rustling in the trees and the corn the day before flashed through his head. It couldn't be a coincidence. It _wasn't._

"Guys!" he suddenly spoke up, interrupting his friends' conversation.

Len, Hikaru and Scotty all looked over at Jim, whose eyes were shining with excitement.

"It's the monster!" Jim gasped. "It has to be!"

"Oh, will you quit with the stupid monster!" Len exploded, "Jim, get a clue—it doesn't exist! This is something entirely different. _Not_ a monster."

"How do you know?" Jim questioned, glaring defiantly at Len. "How do you know it's not a monster?"

"How do _you_ know it is one?"

They were almost nose to nose now, their faces set in anger.

Hikaru and Scotty exchanged nervous glances as silence fell over them. In their group, there were certain rules about fights. One, you didn't bite. ("Because if you draw blood, you hafta get a tetanus shot, which hurts a lot," Len had informed them one sunny, summer afternoon). Two, you had to make up after a maximum of three weeks. And three, quite possibly the most important one: When Jim and Len were the ones arguing, you _didn't_ get involved. No matter what.

"It's a monster," Jim said, very slowly and deliberately.

"It's not," Len shot back.

"What else could do that? Huh? What else could flatten all that corn in one night—"

"Oh, grow up, Jim! Monsters aren't real!"

"This one is!"

But before either of them could get another word in, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, coming in their direction. Coming fast.

Three people appeared from around the corner: a severe-looking, dark-haired woman in a sheriff's uniform, and two men, one ginger-haired and dressed similarly to the sheriff, and the other in a black Starfleet uniform with short, light brown hair and pale green eyes.

"What are you four doing here?" the woman demanded of them, harshly.

All at once, all thoughts of argument were driven from the boys minds. They stared blankly at the adults in front of them, new ideas now occupying the space where anger and worry had been moments before.

_Cops_, Jim thought, _the cops are here. In the cornfield. Where the crops got flattened. This is _big_._

"Well?" the woman prompted.

"We're just—we're—" Hikaru stuttered.

"Cutting through the cornfield," Jim finished.

"Taking a shortcut," Len added.

The woman scrutinized them, her eyes narrowing.

"Seeing how nicely your little prank worked out?" she hissed.

"Prank?" Jim repeated, incredulously. _She thinks _we_ did this?_

The women's male cohorts stared at her in surprise.

"Luce, they're just kids," the one in the Starfleet uniform said, softly.

The severe woman seemed to struggle with herself for a moment and then deflated, sighing deeply. "I know, I know…Christ, I need to get some sleep…" she turned away, staring up at the patchy sky as the four boys exchanged confused glances.

"They couldn't possibly have done this, ma'am," said the ginger-haired man in a London accent, "Not in one night. No one that small could, without proper equipment."

Jim looked sharply at Len, an "I told you so" expression on his face. Len could only blink and stare.

The man in the Starfleet uniform turned to the boys with a sympathetic expression. "Go on," he said, wearily, "But don't cut through here anymore, okay?"

The boys nodded hastily. Hikaru and Scotty took off like frightened rabbits back they way they'd come, and Len began to follow them before noticing that Jim hadn't moved.

"Jim," he said, "Come on."

Jim didn't budge. Instead, he stared up at the man in the Starfleet uniform with an expression that somehow encompassed shock, hurt and curiosity all in one.

"What happened?" he asked, "Who d'you think did it?"

The man ran a hand through his light brown hair and sighed. "Well, son, we don't really know."

"It was a monster," Jim said, immediately.

"Jim," Len pleaded.

The man stared at Jim.

"It was a monster," Jim repeated, "I heard it in the woods yesterday."

"Pike!"

The man turned around, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to ask the boy about the telltale monster hiding out in the woods, to face the severe, dark-haired woman, who was how holding a cup of steaming coffee.

"Luce, I'll be just a sec," he said, beginning to turn back to the boy. "What's your name—"

But Jim was long gone.

* * *

Pike stared at the spot where the boy had been seconds before.

_Did I just imagine that?_ he thought, blankly. It was possible. He'd spent the entire night wired on coffee, and was just now beginning to crash, as Sheriff Kaddington had a few minutes before. _A monster?_

It had to be the kid's imagination at work, he mused blinking.

_Still…_

He shook his head, hard, as if to clear it. _They couldn't possibly have done this, ma'am,_ Deputy Riley's voice echoed in his mind, _Not in one night. No one that small could…_

"Pike!"

Pike turned to see Kaddington glowering at him behind a wisp of steam from her coffee, her shoulder-length hair hanging like a ratty curtain around her pale face, her sullen, gray eyes shadowed from a lack of sleep.

He managed to stifle an annoyed sigh, and started walking back toward her.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Jim and Len hurried back through the cornfield in silence, the only noise their footsteps and the gentle rush of the cornstalks as they brushed past them, and the soft whoosh of the October breeze tickling what remained of Farmer Barrett's crops.

It felt like an eternity before they emerged to meet Hikaru and Scotty on the other side, both wide-eyed and anxious.

Both of them started to speak at once, but Jim shook his head to silence them, thinking hard.

A few moments passed.

Len was the first one to speak. "…Say…it is a monster," he began, "Or something…not humanoid. Like that cop said. We should file a report, or something…shouldn't we?"

Jim shook his head. "I told that man," he said, quietly, "But he's not a police officer. He's Starfleet. He hasn't got any…what's the word? Starts with a 'j'."

"Jurisdictation?" Hikaru supplied.

"Exactly," Jim affirmed. "Over Riverside. And that woman who thought we did it…I don't think she believes us one bit." He looked up at his three friends. "But the fact that Starfleet's involved means this is big. _Really_ big. So we can't just leave it alone."

"…So what do we do?" Len asked.

Jim looked at him, his ice-blue eyes determined.

"We'll find it ourselves," he announced, and started off up the road, the others following him without the slightest idea how they were going to do this, but with complete faith in who they knew in their hearts was their leader.

The rest of the morning was spent planning exactly how they would solve the mystery of the crop circle and catch the culprit—"Monster," Jim insisted—over hot chocolate and graham crackers at Hikaru's house, which eventually evolved into teriyaki chicken and rice for lunch.

The boys essentially took over Hikaru's kitchen, not allowing Hikaru's mother in (not a problem, as she was working in her office on another law project) or his sister Yumiko (a very large problem, because the four-year-old had a habit of getting involved in Hikaru's affairs, and hindering things).

As a result of this, no hard set plans were drawn up, and Hikaru was eventually ordered outside by his irritated mother when Yumiko started screaming at the top of her lungs that SHE WANTED TO PLAY TOO!

Disgruntled, the four boys had finished their lunch and retreated to the front yard, where the large pile of leaves on the damp grass began to look irresistibly inviting…

Four hours later, after Jim had won the title of Best Belly-Flopper and Scotty the title of Craziest Butt-Bouncer, Hikaru was called in for dinner.

Scotty, having been promised an escape from his fourth meal of haggis that week, went eagerly with him, and so Jim and Len left to go to the playground and, too tired to muster the energy for spaceship or tag, talked for an amount of time that was too short for either of them.

At sunset they parted, Len retreating to his ghost house, and Jim to his prison.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Eighty-thirty, Monday morning, Riverside Elementary School.

It took Spock no time at all to realize that he was completely out of place.

Standing at the edge of an enormous open blacktop, a plain, blue backpack on his back, he gazed hopelessly about at the myriad students running around, shouting with glee at the top of their lungs.

It was too _loud_, he realized, that was the problem. Back on Vulcan, school was quiet, as each student was confined to their own separate bubble of instruction.

_This cannot possibly be a school, _he thought, dread creeping into his stomach.

He would stick out like an iguana in a pen full of puppies and he knew it. He was wearing new pants made of a fabric called denim—_blue jeans,_ he remembered—that felt like cardboard, one of his many traditional Vulcan woven sweaters, and an itchy, fleece hat that covered most of his hair and the tips of his ears.

Both of his parents had accompanied him to his first day of school, despite his protests: "One parent is more than sufficient to escort their student to school." And, "Father, do you not have work to do?" And, "You always allowed me to go on my own on Vulcan!"

Not to mention his lunch. Spock suspected that it could feed an entire class, if not a village. There was no possible way for him to finish it all, and yet if he didn't, he knew that his mother would worry. He would have to simply eat what he could, then throw the rest away to avoid the lecture. Wasteful, but necessary.

His mother looked down at him with a warm smile. "Ready?" she asked.

Spock felt ready to throw up. "I suppose," he answered.

"What's your classroom number?" she queried, glancing around.

"Room thirty-one," Spock and his father answered in unison.

His mother, slightly surprised, gave a cheerful laugh.

Spock and his father exchanged confused glances.

"Amanda?" his father questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"It's nothing, Sarek," Amanda giggled, "It's just…you two are so alike. Come on, Spock, let's go meet with your teacher before class starts."

She started aimlessly wandering the blacktop, looking for the building that held Spock's classroom.

Tranquil, the palest ghost of a smile curving his lips, Sarek fell into step beside her.

Spock sighed heavily and trudged along in their wake, knowing he didn't have a choice.

* * *

"_Why, Nyanya?"_ questioned the beautiful little boy in Russian as he walked quickly beside his nanny, "_Why didn't my father come to take me to school?"_

"_Your father is a busy man, Pavel,"_ Nyanya replied, "_He planned to, I know he did, but he was called in to work very early this morning. Last minute, and very urgent."_

"_Was it about the creature?"_

Nyanya looked down at him, frowning. "_The creature?"_ she asked.

"_The one he was talking about on Friday."_

The old woman hesitated a moment before answering. "_Nyet. I doubt it. Work stuff."_

Pavel looked down at his feet, nervously wishing his father had come to see him off. Fighting off monsters and conducting dangerous experiments was one thing, but braving the horrors of a new school was quite another.

"_Come along," _Nyanya said, "_Let's go find your classroom. It's exciting that you'll be a grade ahead. Think of what you'll learn!"_

_Da, _Pavel thought, dully, _and I'll be the youngest one there. Great._

* * *

"Where is he?"

Len scanned the crowded blacktop, frowning, searching for Jim in the fray of screeching children.

"Len, he's just late," Hikaru said, yawning tiredly as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Yeah, and maybe he got hit by a bus on the way to school. Have you ever seen him cross the street?"

Scotty shrugged, looking up from the gizmo he was tinkering with. "Aye, but it's not like it's dangerous or anythin'. S'Iowa, lads. We don't exactly have early mornin' traffic."

The three boys were at the school playground, Scotty sitting on the curb and twisting the screw on one of his many odd gadgets, Hikaru leaning against the monkey bars and yawning, and Len standing at the top of the slide and trying to locate Jim somewhere in the crowd.

"He's never late," Len said, worriedly. "He's always early so he can hang out until the last second and show up late to class."

"You're just paranoid," Hikaru said, unconcerned.

"Yeah?" Len shot back. "_Think about it._ Jim doesn't act like this. Something's holding him up."

"Probably just forgot his lunch or something."

"Jim doesn't bring lunch, Hikaru, he mooches off us."

"You worry too much. You're too…starts with a 'p'…pettitistic!" Hikaru told him.

"And what if he _did_ get run over by a bus? How would you feel then?" Len demanded, irritably.

"_Relax_, Len."

"No! Jim's acting weird, and I wanna know why!"

"Calm down, lads, there he is," Scotty spoke up, pointing to the field.

Sure enough, a blond, floppy-haired figure was walking slowly towards them across the damp grass.

Len slid down the slide and landed on the spongy playground floor, walking over as Jim stepped towards them, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hey," he said cheerfully, as if nothing had happened.

"Why are you late?" Len demanded, scrutinizing him suspiciously.

Jim shrugged. "Got a late start is all."

"What's wrong with your arm?" Hikaru questioned.

Jim, who had been holding his left arm carefully to his chest dropped it suddenly.

"What?" he asked, barely managing to conceal a grimace of pain under a strained grin.

_Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiing!_

"That's the bell," Jim announced, looking towards the school, starting for his classroom.

Len, Hikaru and Scotty exchanged glances.

Len's expression was hard, his face set in a glare at Hikaru that plainly said, "I _told_ you so."

* * *

Spock looked around the interior of Room 31 without hope. He had never seen anything like it in his life. The entire room was plastered with hologram images of work done by the students: pictures, colored maps, record-high test scores…it was odd. As if Terran students actually needed visual encouragement as motivation to do well in school.

On Vulcan, Spock remembered, the importance of education was automatically recognized by everyone—it was logical.

Spock's parents were in deep conversation with his new teacher, a smiling, young woman named Ms. Andrews, with long, auburn hair and square glasses framing her kind face.

"Spock," Ms. Andrews said, warmly, beckoning him over to them. "I was wondering if it would be all right if I introduced you to the class, once school starts."

Internally, Spock winced at the idea of being put on display in front of a group of strangers, but everyone would know his name eventually, so he might as well get it overwith.

"I have no objections," he answered, tonelessly.

Ms. Andrews's lips quirked, as if she was surprised the boy was so articulate. "Don't worry," she said, smiling, "I'll make it quick."

_Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiing!_

"That's the bell," Amanda said, her eyes slightly misty. She put her hands on her son's shoulders. "You'll do fine," she told him, encouragingly, "I know you will."

Spock nodded nervously, the human part of him wanting desperately to beg her not to leave.

Amanda stood, smiling, and headed for the exit.

Sarek followed her. At the door, he turned around and held up his hand in the traditional Vulcan salute.

"Good luck," he said simply, and left.

Spock made a salute of his own, then put it down just as students started to enter the room.

* * *

Jim was just about to turn to go to his classroom when Len stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder and sharply spinning him around.

"Something is wrong with your arm," he said in a low, serious voice. "You need to go to the nurse."

"Len—" Jim protested, but he was cut off as a willowy, dark-haired woman nearly ran into him.

"Whoops," she apologized, "Excuse me."

Jim and Len stepped aside and let her pass.

The second she'd gone, Len focused his attention on his friend. "I don't know what he's done this time, but you can't just leave it alone, Jim."

"I don't want anybody else to know," Jim hissed.

"You don't want—_why not?"_ Len demanded.

"I'm not giving him the satisfaction knowing he's got to me."

"Jim, you can't just—"

"Listen," Jim interrupted him, "You know first aid. Just patch me up at lunch and I'll be fine, okay?"

The second bell rang.

"Jim—" Len protested.

"We're late, Len," Jim answered.

Len opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it, and headed for his class in Room 31.

* * *

Spock had assumed a position behind Ms. Andrews's desk as the classroom filled with children. He felt sick to his stomach.

The second bell rang abruptly, almost making him jump in surprise.

"Okay everybody, please take your seats," Ms. Andrews called cheerfully, and the class slowly but obediently went to their chairs that were arranged around tables where groups of four could sit.

Spock started to pick out minor details in the students as he usually did when he was nervous, and noticed, with a slight jolt, that he was not the only non-human there.

A grinning redheaded girl with bright green skin was sitting at the end of the room, chatting with her tall friend who had dark blonde hair and was meticulously arranging her binder and PADD on her desk.

_She's Orion,_ Spock thought, _She probably came with the first wave of Orion immigrants during the pirate raids in the Arcturan System._

His train of thought was abruptly derailed when Ms. Andrews spoke again. "Quiet down, kids. Mitchell, put that away before I take it, Gaila, spit out your gum…has anyone seen Len? No? All right, then. Class, I'd like to introduce to you a new student of ours." She looked kindly over at Spock, who stepped out of his corner to face the class, all of whom were staring fixedly at him now, as if he was some fantastical creature at the zoo. "Everyone, this is Spock. He moved here quite recently from Vulcan."

Spock flushed green as whispers ran through the classroom, friends turning to face each other in surprise.

"From _where?"_

"All the way off-planet?"

"Vulcan, wow. My dad says they're making an alliance with Earth…"

"Settle down, everyone," Ms. Andrews said, loudly, and the chatter withered, but didn't completely die. "I'd like you all to welcome Spock to our school as best you can, all right? Good. Spock, you can take a seat over there by Kendall." She gestured to a tan, bored-looking boy with spiky black hair, who was sighing discontentedly as if the world was not entertaining him sufficiently.

Spock swallowed and nodded, and was just about to head over when the door opened to reveal another student, this time a tall, irritated-looking boy with dark brown hair and eyes, and the same blue backpack as Spock.

"There you are, Len," Ms. Andrews said, "We were missing you."

The boy muttered a halfhearted apology and crossed the room to the empty seat in front of the Orion girl and her blonde friend.

Spock sat down next to Kendall as Ms. Andrews began to teach.

Kendall leaned over close to him and asked, "Dude. Are you, like, really a Vulcan?"

"I am half-Vulcan," Spock answered, leaning back, uncomfortable with Kendall's proximity to his face. "My mother is a human."

"Dude. That's epic," Kendall said, then set his head down on the table and promptly fell asleep.

Completely bewildered, Spock turned his attention to the teacher. If nothing else, he decided, he could try to learn.

* * *

Len hastily took a seat and got his stuff out of his backpack.

"Where were you?" Gaila questioned him, stealthily placing another stick of gum into her mouth.

"Nowhere," he answered, irritably, "Not your business."

"Well _jeez_. S'cuse me for being concerned," she said, sarcastically. "In case ya haven't noticed, we've got a new kid."

Len blinked. "Really?" he asked, looking around the room.

"By Kendall, dummy."

He looked towards Kendall's seat and found the newcomer, a pale, dark-eyed boy with slanted eyebrows wearing a beanie and a homemade sweater.

"Where's he from?" Len asked.

Gaila was about to answer when she was interrupted by an irritated Ms. Andrews who said, sternly, "Miss Gaila Philips, go spit out your gum and if I see it in your mouth again I'll hold you in during lunch."

Gaila rolled her eyes and took the gum out of her mouth, walking away and tossing it in the trash.

"Well?" Len questioned, turning to leave.

Janice glanced quickly at the new kid and said, very quietly, "Vulcan."

Len stared at for a second, blinked, and then smiled. "Yeah, right," he said, his smile turning into a grin, "Vulcan."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, and my grandparents are the rulers of Lalaland." He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Duh…"

"Ugh. You're so immature." Janice flipped a lock of dark blonde hair over her shoulder and started her work.

* * *

Pavel, who was also starting his first day of school, was introduced to his class, the fifth-graders of Room 27, but he wasn't given the same warm, special treatment as Spock, partially because his new teacher, Mrs. Underwood, was stricter and more old fashioned than Ms. Andrews, and partially because "from Russia" just didn't have the same shock value as "from Vulcan".

In the chilly, high-ceilinged room, he was briefly announced as "Pavel, a new student of ours from Russia", and told to sit at one of the classroom's double tables next to a pretty, dark-skinned girl near the back of the room.

Pavel did as he was told, picking up his too-large backpack and struggling with it to get to the back of the room, pulling out his chair and flopping down in it, realizing with slight dismay that his toes barely reached the floor, while his tablemate's feet sat firmly on the ground.

_Lovely,_ he thought, bitterly, _I am the youngest _and_ the smallest._

The girl smiled warmly at him, then greeted him softly: _"Privyet."_

Pavel's eyes widened in surprise.

"_I'm Nyota Uhura," _the girl continued, in flawless Russian, _"What's your name?"_

"_I'm Pavel Chekov," _he answered. _Her accent is perfect, _he thought, shocked. _"You speak Russian like a native."_

Nyota smiled demurely, casting her eyes briefly downward. _"Thank you. I've lived there before. My dad was the Kenyan ambassador to Russia, and we used to move back and forth between countries when I was little."_

"_When did you come to the United States?"_

"_When I was six."_

"_Wow. Three languages."_

"_Da," _Nyota said, _"But I'm trying to learn more. I like language. I'm good at it."_

"_What are you trying to learn?"_

"_Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, and French."_

"_Wow. Just…why French? Not many people speak it anymore," _Pavel said, a bemused look on his face.

Nyota shrugged. _"It sounds nice. And there are still some countries that speak it. The others are more common, but it's good to know more obscure languages. What do you like to do?"_

Pavel grinned. _"I'm a scientist," _he said, proudly.

Before he could say more on this topic, he and Nyota were silenced by a stern glare from Mrs. Underwood, who had the gift of making herself look like a wrinkly, gray-haired dragon whenever she caught students misbehaving.

Nyota looked sheepishly down at her empty PADD screen and started the math problems on the board.

Pavel looked between her and Mrs. Underwood for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to keep up their conversation, then decided against it, as Nyota was now completely absorbed in her work, and Mrs. Underwood could've had smoke rising from her nostrils, had Pavel's imagination supplied it.

He picked up his stylus and started writing.

_At least I have a friend, _he thought, _And she speaks Russian._

* * *

Three double-tables ahead, Jim was determinedly ignoring the scraps of paper Hikaru pushed at him, asking him what had made him late, why his arm hurt, and what the heck had Len been talking about?

_Tell meeeeeee!_ read the latest one, in Hikaru's tiny writing. _Pleeeeez?_

Jim, whose fake good mood had deteriorated shortly after his conversation with Len, huffed an annoyed sigh and wrote a note back in his own messy scrawl:

_Later. Btw, that new kid's sitting next to Nyota, and they're talking in Russian. I didn't know she spoke Russian, did you?_

While Len would've told Jim to stop changing the subject, Hikaru was more easily diverted.

_Nope, _he wrote back, glancing carefully at Mrs. Underwood to make sure she wasn't watching, _but then, she never talks to us anyways, so how would I know?_

_Dunno._

_You're jealous, aren't you?_

_Shut up._

Hikaru snickered and swept the scraps away onto his lap before Mrs. Underwood saw.

* * *

For both Spock and Pavel, the rest of the morning passed without much excitement. Kendall remained sound asleep, and Nyota, lost in her work, refrained from talking to anyone until morning recess, during which Spock wandered aimlessly around the playground, cataloging locations in the map he kept in his head, pondering the illogic of Terran males screaming, "COOTIES!" and running away whenever females drew close to them. Pavel hung out with Nyota and her friends until the tall blonde and the green-skinned girl cooed over how cute he was, and he promptly left to go fume at a tetherball until the bell rang.

Nothing eventful really happened until lunch.

The fourth, fifth and sixth graders of Riverside Elementary School had a designated lunch are a separate from the other grades: a set of green fiberglass tables under a canopy of solar panels.

It was at the table in the southwestern corner of the area that Spock stood, his massive lunch spread out across the tabletop, a thoughtful expression on his face as he decided what he wanted to throw out.

The enormous lunch was comprised of two half-sandwiches, one peanut butter and jelly, one ham and cheese, an apple, an orange, a pear, a thermos of a traditional Vulcan stew, a bottle of water, and a peanut butter cookie.

On one hand, Spock mused, he disliked peanut butter and jelly, but on the other, he had no desire to be ridiculed for his thermos of Tashai'pa. The orange was hard, so it could go, he decided. But the apple or the pear…both were very close in nutritional value. The peanut butter cookie would definitely stay. He had no opinion on the ham and cheese. Yet.

He stood there for a few minutes as more time ticked on, indecisive, before picking up the orange, the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and the apple, walking over to the trash can, and tossing them in.

Not even a full second had passed after doing this that he heard an angry shout from behind:

"Hey! Where's my sandwich?"

Spock froze, a sudden feeling of dread creeping into his stomach. He took a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself, and turned around.

A very tall, very burly-looking boy with a dark red buzz cut was standing next to the spot where Spock's lunch had been a moment before, where his own peanut-butter and jelly sandwich sat, untouched.

"He tossed it in the trash," said a skinny, greasy-haired boy nearby, pointing accusingly at Spock.

The tall, burly boy turned around to face Spock, his eyebrows raising.

"So…" he began, "…Ya threw my lunch away, didja, _new kid?"_

Spock nodded once. "I did," he said, demonstrating an air of calm that he definitely was not feeling inside, "by accident. I thought what I was disposing of was my own sandwich, not yours. You may have it, if you wish. I was not going to eat it."

The boy took a step forward, his dark eyes glittering with malice. "I don't _want_ your stupid sandwich, _new kid_, I wanna see your head on a silver platter!"

Spock took a step away from the boy, his mind racing furiously. He might possibly have a chance of successfully defending himself. He had been trained for it. But the bully advancing on him was at least three inches taller than he was, and appeared to be much stronger.

The skinny, greasy-haired kid scrambled over the tabletop, joining the burly bully with an evil grin on his face.

"Sam, whaddaya say we teach the new kind about respecting his betters, huh?"

Spock was now backed up against the trash can. He swallowed. He could try to fight them. He could try to run. He could do nothing, and let himself get beaten bloody until someone came to his aid, just so he could tell his mother he didn't harm anyone…but what good would it do?

"Hey!" barked a sharp, female voice. A pretty, dark-skinned girl with long, braided hair had stepped over to Spock's side, her dark eyes blazing with anger. "Leave him _alone_, Tobias."

The bully laughed, a dim, hearty guffaw.

"Wormy likes the new kid," he taunted, a smirk twisting his face. "Whatcha gonna do, Wormhead? Swear at me in Tibetan?"

"Leave him alone," the girl repeated, "What's he done to you?"

"He threw away Toby's sandwich!" the greasy-haired boy, Sam, said accusingly.

"By mistake," Spock interjected.

The girl looked between Spock and the bullies and decided that Spock was telling the truth.

"He said it was an accident, so why don't you go mooch off the first graders like you always do, you big coward?" she snapped.

"I think I'd rather pound the new kid's brains out," the bully, Tobias, answered.

"Well, you'll have to go through me first," she growled, standing in front of Spock and spreading her arms like a bird, glaring up at the bully in disgust. "You really wanna risk a fight in front of the yard duty?"

Tobias and Sam looked sharply over to the yard duty standing two tables away, her orange coat glaring brightly in the patch of sun where she stood.

Tobias looked back at Spock and the girl. "We'll see how tough you are when the teachers aren't around, new kid," he spat, turning and walking away.

"You're one to talk!" the girl sniped after him, "Picking five-on-one fights with third graders, oh, I'd like to see you try!" She shook her head, turning back around to face Spock, who found that he was blushing green, for some reason.

"They're all big chickens," she said, venomously, "I'd like to see them in a _real_ fight." Her tone changed then, a small smile appearing on her pretty face. "Well, I'm Nyota. What's your name?"

"I am Spock," Spock said, going from light green to emerald. Nyota was very pretty, he noted, blankly.

_Thank her, Spock, _said a voice in his head, _She saved you._

Nyota stared blankly at him for a moment. "Are you ill?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. "You're turning green."

"N-no," Spock stuttered, embarrassed, "I'm—I mean—thank you for saving me—I have—my blood's—I have to go."

Surpassing emerald and reaching evergreen, Spock picked up the remnants of his lunch and ran.

"Oh…okay," Nyota said, as he sprinted across the blacktop, "…See you around, then."

* * *

Spock felt like an idiot. Illogical as it was, he wanted to smack himself upside the head.

He was _Vulcan. _He'd been educated to speak with a vocabulary at least ten times that of an average Terran child. How was it that he couldn't even talk to a girl his age?

_Admittedly a very pretty girl, _said a snide voice in his head.

_Be quiet, _he thought back, approaching the curb of the playground and taking a seat, unscrewing the cap on his thermos of soup.

He stared at the hot food for a moment, then decided he was no longer hungry, and stood to throw it away, heading over to the nearby garbage chute and dumping it in, along with the rest of his lunch.

_And, _the snide voice continued, _You didn't defend yourself. If the bullies had tried to start a fight, she would have gotten hurt._

_I would have fought them, _he retorted.

_Would you?_

Guilt wormed its way into his stomach. He'd let the girl defend him, and then he hadn't even thanked her properly.

_So go find her and apologize, you dolt, _the snide voice told him, irritably.

Spock stood, heading back toward the tables, catching bits of conversation from the children nearby as he did so.

"No fair! Hot lava monster can't touch the poles!"

And: "Tag! You're it!"

And: "Why do you let him _do_ this to you, Jim?"

"I _told_ you, I'm not giving him the satisfaction knowing he's got to me."

Spock stopped in his tracks, this last bit echoing in his head. _Others besides me are being bullied? _he thought, turning to the source of the noise and finding it almost instantly.

Four boys close to his age were grouped under an aging willow tree, talking in hushed, anxious voices.

Spock recognized one of them as the boy in his class who had shown up late, the one with the same backpack as him.

_Len?_ he thought, remembering Ms. Andrews asking about the boy's whereabouts before introducing Spock to the class.

Len, if that was his name, was staring incredulously at an annoyed, floppy-haired blond boy with ice blue eyes, his arms crossed, leaning against the tree trunk.

"My stepfather," the blond boy said, angrily, "is a lazy, stupid slug. I wish he would fall off the face of the earth."

Before Spock could stop himself, he found himself responding.

"A boy should respect his parents," he said, recalling ethics lessons back on Vulcan, "and he will, in turn, receive that same respect."

The four boys under the tree looked over at Spock, all of them frowning.

"I don't think," the blond began, coolly, "that this is any of your business. So if you don't mind, bug off."

"You were speaking ill of your stepfather," Spock continued, calmly, "I am merely offering my advice. I find that the most effective way to deal with my parents is to show them respect."

"He doesn't deserve my respect."

"And why would that be?"

"Oh," the blond said, sarcastically, "So I guess your dad's never broken your arm before, has he?"

Len shot Spock a glare. "Come on," he growled, "Let's go." He turned to leave, the other boys turning to follow.

"I have never given him reason to do so," Spock informed them, as they started to walk away.

The blond froze in mid-step.

He turned slowly to face Spock, his ice-blue eyes blazing.

"I think…what you're trying to say," he began, slowly, his voice quivering with fury, "…is that my problem…is my fault. Am I right?"

Spock shrugged. "There is no other logical conclusion."

The blond's eyes widened at this, then he nodded curtly and started to turn away.

_Why are you angry with me? _Spock thought, confused, _I am only stating the obvious._

He couldn't understand how he had managed to infuriate the boy. It was simple logic that had led him to his conclusion. He was only trying to give him advice, even going so far as to speak from personal experience—

All thought was driven from Spock's mind as the blond boy's fist collided with his jaw, _hard_.

Taken by surprise, Spock staggered back a couple of steps as he heard Len's distant shout:

"Jim, NO!"

The boy was coming at him again. As he had been trained to do, Spock steeled himself and assumed a defensive stance.

* * *

Len watched in horror as his friend charged at the new kid.

Jim was the best fighter Len had ever known. No one, except for Tobias and his gang, on occasion, ever tried to get in a fight with him. They knew they would lose.

But the new kid, annoying and insensitive as he might be, had no clue what Jim was capable of, and therefore had no idea what he was getting into.

The way Len saw it, if someone was going to get attacked by Jim, they deserved fair warning.

Unwilling to rat out his best friend, but knowing in his heart that something had to be done, he darted over to Christine, who was standing nearby and hissed, _"Get a teacher!"_

Christine took off like a frightened rabbit, and Len turned back to the fight, just in time to see the new kid land a blow that knocked Jim to the asphalt like a rag doll.

* * *

Jim found himself on the ground with his ears ringing.

_You don't pull punches, do you? _he thought, as blood began to flow from his nostrils.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he got to his feet, wiping his nose and charging his opponent again.

* * *

Spock sidestepped the blond boy running at him and caught him by the arm, spinning him around and into his knee.

The boy took the blow in the stomach and doubled over, winded, and Spock stepped back, assuming his defensive position again.

The boy was trying to regain his breath as he ran at Spock once more, receiving another blow to the stomach.

He took a step back, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He moved forward again to attack, but his punch was blocked, swiftly.

A flicker of pain crossed the boy's face.

He backed up a few steps, then flew at Spock again.

* * *

Len's eyes widened as he watched Jim rush his opponent again.

He no longer cared what happened to the pale newcomer—he obviously knew what he was doing—but Jim was going to get himself hurt badly if he didn't stop.

_Hurry up, Christine, _he thought, desperately.

* * *

Jim was swearing in his mind. The new kid was just too fast. He could hardly get a punch anywhere near the kid's face.

Arrows of pain glanced up his arm as the kid blocked another blow—_What, are his bones made of steel or something?_—and he staggered back again.

_Back off, Jim!_ Mind-Len was screaming at him, _Or they'll be scraping your remains off the blacktop!_

The new kid was five feet away, his fists up and ready.

Jim rushed the new kid for the last time, drawing back his fist and bracing himself against what was coming.

* * *

Spock's punch knocked his opponent to the ground. The blond boy fell to his knees—gasps arose from the watching crowd—and Spock moved in for the kill.

The boy wasn't getting up—it was over.

Spock's training dictated that he allow his opponent a moment to surrender, before delivering the traditional nerve pinch to finish the contest. Slowly he approached the boy, reaching out to grab the point where the boy's shoulder and neck met.

* * *

_C'mon, you pale jerk, c'mon…_ Jim thought, tensing as he heard the new kid approaching.

And then he felt it. The new kid's hand had grasped his shoulder, ready to finish him off.

Jim turned and swung.

* * *

Instantly Spock was on his back, pinned to the ground, unable to move. He stared up at the blond boy sitting on top of him, whose hand was closed on his throat, his bloodied face grim.

_He did not submit, _Spock thought, blankly, _it did not work…_

The boy had tricked him. He had broken the rules.

_He did not submit, _Spock repeated to himself. "You cheated," he said.

The boy looked Spock in the eye. "I won," he answered.

They stared at each other in silence before the sharp sound of a teacher's whistle came from across the playground.

The boy stood, wiping the blood off his face. "You need to work on that move," he added.

Spock could only blink and stare.

* * *

Len, Hikaru and Scotty watched in silent shock as Jim and the pale new kid were led across the blacktop.

"Who was _that?" _Hikaru asked, staring after them, wide-eyed.

"Tha' was _bloody insane_," Scotty said.

Len said nothing, looking at a couple of girls who were standing next to where the new kid had been pinned a moment before.

"Jeez," one of them was saying in awe, "How did they manage to get grass stains all the way over here?"

"I'm gonna remember that 'till I die," the other answered.

_Grass stains? _Len thought, blinking in surprise. He vaguely recalled something he'd come across on the internet. Something about Vulcans and green blood.

_Odd._

* * *

Six hours later, Xena Apartment Complex.

Spock was sitting in his room, staring out the window at the cloud-patched sky.

He felt terrible, the weight of his first day at school resting heavily on his heart. He was the new kid—strange and different beyond comparison—and everyone knew it. He'd allowed a girl to defend him and stammered like an idiot when he'd tried to thank her. Then he'd gotten into a fight, and _lost_.

_And in conclusion,_ he thought, miserably, _Mother is…disappointed._

Disappointed. The mere word was worse than the fiercest anger, worse than the deepest sadness.

He recalled her words as they left the principal's office, both of them silent.

He had looked up at her. "Mother," he had begun, hesitantly, "Are you…are you angry with me?"

She had sighed deeply, gazing out across the blacktop at the empty playground, the swings drifting back and forth in the breeze, creaking.

After what had felt like an eternity, she had spoken.

"I'm…disappointed, Spock," she had told him, quietly, "I really expected better of you."

Spock had looked down at his feet, a dull green flush of shame creeping up his face.

_Stop thinking about that, _he told himself, flopping down on his bed and staring up at the dark ceiling.

But he couldn't. Every time he tried to concentrate on something else, the memory of her voice—her exact words—found a way into his mind.

How much longer could he possibly dwell on this?

He sat up, picking up a small holograph picture sitting on his bedside table, an image of him, his mother and his father. His mother was laughing, her eyes shut and her mouth open wide. His father, although solemn as usual, had a slight quirk to his lips only visible to the trained eye. And Spock was smiling too—not barely, like his father, and not laughing, like his mother, but enough for someone to recognize it as a smile.

_Why cannot life be the way it is in pictures? _he thought, sadly.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in," Spock said in a small voice.

His mother opened the door. "Spock," she said, softly, "Your father's home, and he and I would like to have a talk with you."

Spock nodded and got off the bed, crossing the room to the door and following her into the kitchen where his father sat waiting at the kitchen table, his usual solemn expression o his face.

Spock took a seat, guilt worming its way back into his stomach again, and his mother took a seat next to him.

There was a brief silence before anyone spoke.

"Spock," his mother began, gently, "Would you mind telling your father what happened?"

Spock looked between his mother and father, then nodded and began to recount his story.

"Well," he began, quietly, "I was walking around at lunch, and I overheard a conversation between four boys. One of them was speaking ill of his stepfather saying…" Spock hesitated for a moment, "Well…speaking ill of his stepfather. So I stepped in and offered my advice. And somehow…I upset him."

"Would you tell us," his father asked, "exactly what you said to the boy?"

Spock nodded and told them about what the boy had said about his stepfather, and what advice he had offered in return.

_Oh, so your dad's never broken your arm before?_

_I have never given him reason to do so._

At the mention of this exchange, Spock's mother frowned and made eye contact with her husband.

"Sarek," she began, in a worried tone.

"We can discuss it later, Amanda," Sarek answered, quietly, his tone completely emotionless.

Amanda swallowed and nodded.

Spock looked between them in confusion. _What are you talking…or rather not talking about?_ he thought.

"About what you said to the boy," Amanda spoke, as if nothing had happened, "When you tried to give him your advice…well…you insulted him, Spock."

"_What?"_ Spock asked, stunned, "How did I—"

"What you must understand," Sarek began, calmly, "is that humans and vulcans are very different beings. Particularly when humans are upset about something, they do not normally take advice from strangers. They see it as an invasion of their privacy when strangers step in to help. Do you understand?"

Spock blinked. "I…suppose," he said.

Amanda shrugged. "Well, go on," she prompted.

"I…insulted him, he got angry, and then he attacked me, and I defended myself," Spock continued, bracing himself for the next reaction. "And…I lost."

Sarek blinked, staring at his son with a curious expression. "You…lost?" he queried, raising an eyebrow.

"He cheated." Spock struggled with his tone, trying hard not to sound bitter. "I had bested him at least five times, but he kept getting up and trying to fight back. When I knocked him down for the last time, I approached to deliver the nerve pinch, but instead of submitting to it, he attacked me again. He waited for me to get close enough to strike. He cheated."

Sarek and Amanda exchanged glances again.

"As I said earlier," Sarek said, "Humans and vulcans are very different beings. In Vulcan society, it would be dishonorable to feign submission, but here on Earth, such an act is not considered so. In fact, it is seen as an intelligent strategic move. There is a certain human saying to accompany the reason behind it: 'All is fair in love and war.'"

Spock let his father's words process in his mind. "The ends justify the means?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, according to the saying," Sarek confirmed.

Spock thought for a moment, then asked, "But I still do not understand why he attacked me in the first place. Why would he not simply tell me that I had offended him?"

Sarek opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, then closed it again, his brow knitting as he tried to come up with a logical response.

"I believe," he said, thoughtfully, "that your mother may have a better answer to this question than I."

Both Sarek and his son looked expectantly at Amanda.

"Well," she began, "human boys have a certain way of establishing themselves. A way that is…different from vulcans. Sometimes when a human boy has a conflict with another boy, they will fight it out."

"But…" Spock said, frowning, "…that is not logical."

"Humans aren't always logical," Amanda answered, with a slight shrug. "When this boy attacked you, I don't think it was because he'd lost control of his temper. True, he was angry, but I think what he was doing was showing that he wasn't someone to suffer insults lightly. Not that you were trying to insult him," she added, as Spock opened his mouth to protest. "But he interpreted it that way."

"And so he attacked me," Spock nodded, still trying to wrap his mind around the foreign concept.

"And you fought back," Sarek spoke up, a slight frown on his face. "Personally, Spock, I am astounded that you did not take the high road in this matter—that you did not remember your Vulcan heritage. If it is possible to resolve a matter peacefully, then a peaceful solution is better than a violent one."

"I acted in self-defense!" Spock said, indignantly.

"We realize that," Amanda interjected, in an attempt to mollify her son, shooting a warning glance at her husband. "And we also realize that even though you could have crushed this boy into the dust, you used your strength for self-defense, and self-defense only. And _that_ is what makes you a good person."

Spock met his mother's eyes, studying her face. _Is that…a smile?_ he thought, now more confused than ever. _Is she smiling? But…she was disappointed in me…_

Her words echoed in Spock's mind.

"Do you understand?" Sarek asked.

Spock nodded, blankly.

Amanda put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't dwell on it," she reassured him, "You're a good person. Your father and I have full faith in that. We trust you to know right from wrong."

"…All right," Spock answered, his mind swirling in fog.

He looked out the window at the darkening sky as raindrops began to patter down on the glass.

His mother spoke again, ending the conversation, but her words, although kind, felt far away.

"_We love you, Spock. So much."_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Thank God it's Friday, _thought Christopher Pike as he stepped out of the transporter into the Riverside Police Station, nursing a cup of hot coffee and a killer headache, having spent another sleepless night at the shipyard trying to solve the mystery of the hole in the shuttle.

He wasn't particularly looking forward to the meeting he was about to have with Sheriff Kaddington, who was still dealing with a number of paranoid people who claimed to have seen Elvis return from the dead the weekend before.

He found the Sheriff standing at the end of the room, her eyes shadowed and her expression surly.

"Hello, Luce," Pike said, dully.

She grunted in reply and started heading for the door, and he fell into step beside her. It was a moment before either of them spoke.

"How goes the investigation?" asked Kaddington.

"Badly," Pike answered. He took another sip of coffee. "What's happening down here?"

"Nothing," Kaddington muttered, irritably. "A whole lot of nothing. Every teen in the area has a solid alibi. Not to mention Farmer Barrett whining about his damaged crops and Quinn calling me once an hour to say his cat's going nuts again. Probably because the idiot doesn't feed it properly. I don't know." She huffed, angrily.

"Have you considered that it might not have been a local kid out for kicks?" Pike asked.

"Oh, come on, Pike," snapped Kaddington, "You really think this is anything more than a prank?"

"We've been over this," Pike told her, in exasperation, "it can't be a prank."

"It's a prank."

"Luce—"

"I know what you'll say."

"Listen!"

Kaddington stopped in her tracks, whirling on Pike, her eyes blazing. "_This discussion is over,"_ she growled, her voice low.

Pike stared at her as she began to walk away. "…Fine," he called after her, "I have work to do."

Kaddington rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

* * *

Eight-fifteen, Friday morning.

Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty were sitting at the playground on top of one of the rusting antique cars, lost in conversation.

"Me mum says there's been other weird stuff happenin' all over the place," Scotty said, as he tightened a screw on another gadget of his—a small, metal object that looked like a cross between a spider and a camera.

Len was scrutinizing the leaf-strewn ground, his arms crossed against the October morning chill.

"Stuff like that doesn't just happen," he said, frowning, "I mean, we all heard that guy last Sunday. He said nobody could've done it in one night."

Jim was leaning back against the other antique car, his left arm tucked to his chest again, courtesy of his stepfather, and his fight with the new kid. He gazed distantly off toward the woods, taking in the scent of damp freshness—the kind that comes after a lot of rain.

"Did any of you guys notice the brown-haired guy's uniform?" he asked, musingly, "From Sunday?"

Len, Hikaru and Scotty all looked over at him in confusion.

"What about it?" Hikaru asked, frowning.

"It was Starfleet," Jim said.

"So?" Len questioned, "There's tons of Starfleet people around here."

"But don'tcha think it's a little weird that Starfleet's getting involved?" Jim asked them. "Think about it. Something big is going on here."

"And you won't be able to sleep until we figure out what it is," Len muttered, rolling his eyes.

Jim grinned. "Nope," he said.

Len sighed heavily, then, glancing over at his friend asked, dully, "How's your arm?"

Scotty and Hikaru exchanged nervous glances.

Jim's grin faded. "It's fine," he answered.

"Liar."

This time it was Jim rolling his eyes.

"Come on," Len said, irritably, "Let's go. Or else we'll be late."

"Let's stay for a bit longer."

"Jim, we're gonna be late."

"And you care because…?"

Len sent his friend a meaningful glance.

Jim shrugged, a slight smile curving his lips. "All right, we'll call it a vote. All in favor of staying here where it's _fun_ and talking about the monster, raise your hand and say aye."

Scotty and Hikaru's hands shot up and both of them along with Jim cried, "Aye!"

Len huffed an exasperated sigh and threw up his arms. "What else is there to say about it?" he demanded, "It showed up in the woods, made a crop circle, and Starfleet's involved with the investigation. Big _deal_! Can't we talk about something else for once?"

"Like what?" Scotty asked.

"I dunno! Like how Nyota's been hanging out with the new kid, or something."

Jim, who had been gazing off toward the woods again, snapped to attention.

"What?" he demanded, his eyes widening.

Len nodded slowly. "You didn't know?" he asked.

"I've been picking up trash at recess and lunch for the past three days. How could I possibly know?" Jim looked between Hikaru, Scotty and Len. "You guys knew?"

"We've barely seen you," Hikaru said. "And when we have seen you, we've only been talking about the monster." He shrugged. "And jumping in leaf piles," he added as an afterthought.

"Why, though?"

Scotty and Hikaru exchanged confused glances.

"Why were we jumpin' in leaf piles?" Scotty questioned.

"No, why would Nyota hang out with him? After Monday, I mean?"

A small smile was beginning to appear on Len's face. "Well, face the facts, Jim," he said, with a slight shrug, "He _did_ almost end up beating you, and Nyota never really liked you to begin with."

"Why d'ye care, Jim?" Scotty asked, bemused.

Jim went faintly pink. "I don't care," he said, defensively, "I'm just curious."

Hikaru, who had been holding back a giggle, burst into full song: "Jimmy and Nyota, sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Yeah, yeah, shaddup!" Jim said, turning away and heading toward the road. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"

* * *

The four boys, although reasonably far from the school, managed to make it to class on time, if just barely, where the morning passed with minimal excitement, not just for them, but for everyone.

Jim and Spock's fight was old news by now, the shock value of the event having dissipated over the past few days, and the students of Riverside Elementary School turned to their own topics of conversation.

Eventually, Hikaru and Scotty stopped teasing Jim about Nyota, although the main cause of that was Mrs. Underwood, who shot them her usual fierce dragon glare.

At lunch, as they had done then and at morning recess for the past three days, Jim and Spock served their last day of punishment for fighting on campus—Jim picking up trash at the green tables, and Spock doing the same thing on the other side of the school. _Far_ on the other side of the school.

Meanwhile, Len, Hikaru and Scotty were sitting under the old willow tree, bored, leaderless, and wondering what to do when they heard a screech of pain from nearby.

All three of them looked over to the source of the noise to see two fourth graders standing by the tetherball courts, one of them whimpering and clutching her nose, which had begun to bleed, the other wide-eyed and apologizing so quickly he was almost incoherent.

The girl was Christine: tiny, white-blonde, and holding her hands over her nose.

"Who's that?" Len asked, staring at the apologizing boy.

"New kid," Scotty said, nonchalantly.

"From Russia," added Hikaru.

"…Hm."

The trio watched as Christine was approached by Nyota, Gaila, and Janice, all of whom started trying to comfort her.

Hikaru and Scotty then shared a conspiratorial glance, looking first at each other and then at Len.

"Hey, Len," Hikaru said, in a sincere voice, "You should go help."

Len's head snapped around so fast that both Scotty and Hikaru were momentarily worried he would break his neck.

"_What?"_ he hissed.

"Well, ye are good with injuries," Scotty told him, shrugging.

Len looked back at the group over by the tetherball court. "She has a bloody nose," he said, annoyed.

"Aye, but she's an extremely fragile fourth-grader with a bloody nose. It'd be nice if somebody went tae comfort her."

"Dangit, I'm a kid, not a psychiatrist! Besides, that what her friends are for."

"But none of them are good with injuries," Hikaru spoke up.

"You're saying she can't handle a bloody nose?"

"Gaila could, maybe Janice and Nyota, but nae Christine," Scotty said.

"And none of them are good with injuries," Hikaru put in.

"But—but—guys!" Len protested, "There are _nurses_ here. You know that, right?"

"You just don't wanna help her 'cause she's little and annoying and she _likes_ you," Hikaru said, accusingly, "Are you just not gonna help people you don't like?"

"Len!"

Len jumped at the sound of his name, and looked up to see Gaila waving him over.

He glared briefly at Hikaru and Scotty who raised their eyebrows as if to say, _Go on!, _and then stood and started walking over to the group of kids, where Janice had put a hand around Christine's shoulders, and Nyota was trying to tell the Russian new kid that it was okay; it was an accident.

"Hey," Nyota said, noticing Len, smiling wearily.

"Hi," Len answered, trying to smile and managing a grimace.

"I know you don't like her much," she continued in a low voice, pulling him aside, "but could you…y'know…come with us to the nurse's office? Tell her to tilt her head back or something? It'd mean the world to her."

Len shot her an incredulous look. "She'll get the wrong idea!" he said in protest, "Nyota…"

"Please?" Nyota implored him with her eyes.

"I…but…" Len glanced over at Christine, who was still whimpering pathetically.

Janice, her arm around Christine's shoulders, looked expectantly back at him.

"Okay, _fine_," Len said in defeat, his shoulders slumping.

Christine, annoying as she was, was another person in the wide world of people in need of medical attention, and Len wasn't about to make exceptions, even for her.

_The guys are gonna give me hell for this, _he thought, resignedly as he stepped over to Christine and Janice.

"Um…" he began, hesitantly, "Christine?" He bent over a little to try and lessen their difference in height.

Christine blinked away a couple of tears and looked up at Len, her pale blue eyes widening and a slight flush creeping up her cheeks, which of course only made the blood flow more.

"Leonard?" she asked, in a quivery voice.

Len tried not to cringe as she called him by his full name.

"Can you do something for me?" he asked, feeling as if he'd begun to dig himself a grave, "Can you plug your nose and tilt your head back a little bit?"

Christine nodded and did so, pinching her nose with her thumb and forefinger and tipping her face skyward.

"Is that better?" he asked.

She half-nodded, her nose still pointed up in the air.

" 'Kay," he said, forcing a smile, "Let's get you to the nurse's office."

Christine half-nodded again and they started off across the blacktop, followed by Janice, Gaila, a beaming Nyota, and the Russian new kid.

From their seat beneath the willow tree, Hikaru and Scotty slapped hands, grinning broadly.

"He's gonna hate us for that, you know," Hikaru said, grinning.

"Aye, so let's make sure we deserve it first!" Scotty laughed.

* * *

Nyota sighed wearily as Pavel tried to apologize to her yet again as they stepped into the front office, Christine, Len and Janice in the lead.

"Pavel, it's _okay_," she told him for the umpteenth time, glancing up at Len, who looked like he wanted to smack himself upside the head.

She felt a little guilty for asking him to come with them, but then again, at the very least, Christine would be happy.

_Well, _Nyota rephrased the thought in her mind, _she'll be ecstatic._

She turned her gaze to the end of the room where a familiar figure stood, holding a bulging bag of trash and talking to one of the yard duties.

"Spock!" she called, smiling at him.

Since Tuesday, Spock and Nyota had in fact been hanging out, but not nearly as much as Len and the other boys thought. Spock had managed, after several hours of forced rehearsal, to speak to her again, and to apologize for not thanking her properly. After that they had talked twice before school.

Spock glanced over and nodded to her once before returning his attention to the yard duty.

"I'll see you after school," she told him, before following Christine, Pavel, Janice and Gaila toward the nurse's office.

Len hung back, letting them pass, looking harassed and embarrassed. "Um…" he mumbled to Nyota as she approached, "I think I'm gonna take off, okay?"

Nyota smiled at him. "Thanks," she said, gratefully, "I owe you one."

Len stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I know," he groaned.

Nyota grinned and followed her friends out of the room.

_Wonderful, _Len thought, dully, as he started for the door. _Now I get to be ridiculed by the guys _and_ harassed by Christine._

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice as the door abruptly swung open ahead of him.

"Hey!" Len jumped out of the way to avoid swift incapacitation.

Jim, who was now entering, carrying his own bag of trash, shot him a bemused look. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story," Len muttered, darkly, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm done," Jim answered, grinning. "Finally. Took long enough. Did I get here before he did?"

"Who? The new kid? Spock?"

"Yeah."

Len glanced toward the back of the office, and Jim followed his gaze to see the new kid talking with the yard duty.

"…Oh," Jim said, seeming to deflate slightly. He looked away for a moment, then grabbed Len by the arm and pulled him aside as two young student teachers walked by, discussing something in hushed, serious voices.

"All this crop circle stuff has me worried, "the tall, thin one was saying, flipping her curly blonde hair over her shoulder, "My parents work on one of the farms way out there in the hills. You know. Near the shipyard."

"I heard something happened over there, but the cops aren't telling us," the other, a stocky woman with short black hair answered, "So apparently Starfleet's involved."

"There's some kind of meeting going on in town at the Russian Embassy," the tall blonde woman told her friend, "This Saturday night. Some kind of open house. I don't know what's going on, but I heard Christopher Pike will be there."

"You mean that commander at the shipyard? The guy always walking around in that black uniform downtown? He's cute."

Len and Jim exchanged glances as the two women started to talk about the various cute Starfleet guys they had seen in bars around town.

Before either of the boys could say a word, however, a voice sounded from behind:

"Jim!"

Jim and Len turned to see the yard duty standing there.

"Gotta go," Jim said, quietly, heading towards her.

"See ya after school," Len called, walking backwards toward the door.

"See ya," Jim answered.

* * *

After school.

_Mother…where are you?_ Spock thought, more anxiously than he cared to admit as he stood behind the fifth and sixth grade buildings in front of the parking lot.

His mother was late. She had never been late before. It was unprecedented. She was always punctual, always making time for her son. Spock couldn't understand what was holding her up.

"Hey," called a familiar voice.

Spock turned to see Nyota walking toward him.

He felt butterflies in his stomach, for some unknown reason, as he had before when he'd spoken to her on Monday, and then before school on Wednesday and Thursday.

"Hello," he said, trying to manage a smile, even though it was completely illogical and he had no idea why he was doing it.

"You waiting for somebody?" she asked, walking over to him.

"My mother," he answered. "She is late. I do not know why, but…well…"

He trailed off.

"She probably just got held up," Nyota told him.

"It is likely, though it has not happened before."

They fell silent for a moment, and then Nyota spoke again. "You really are worried, aren't you?"

Spock looked at her, raising one eyebrow. "Is that not considered normal?"

"No, it is, it's just that…well…I've never met anybody so thoughtful. Anybody else would just assume that she was late," Nyota told him kindly, smiling shyly.

There was another short silence, and then she spoke again: "Will you teach me to speak Vulcan?"

Spock, slightly taken back by this, stared at her. "I…suppose," he said, "…Why, though?"

Nyota shrugged. "I like learning languages," she replied. "It makes me feel less ordinary."

"I do not think you are ordinary," Spock blurted out. He flushed emerald, realizing what he'd just said.

Nyota giggled. "Thanks," she said.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then Spock looked away.

"Um. Well," he began, starting to pace along behind the building, Nyota at his side, "First, you should know that Vulcan is not an easy language to learn. Do you have experience with phonetic languages?"

"I'm learning Mandarin Chinese," she said, modestly, "Does that compare?"

Spock raised his eyebrows. Mandarin Chinese was one of the most difficult languages to learn on Earth, aside from English, which she obviously knew.

"It does…" he answered, "…how many languages are you studying?"

"Four now, with Vulcan. Mandarin, Arabic and French. But I already speak English, Russian and Swahili."

Spock stared at her. "Which was your first?" he asked.

"Swahili," she said, "and Russian. Sort of at the same time."

_She learned two languages at once, then mastered the hardest language on the planet, is working on Mandarin, Arabic and French, and now wants to learn Vulcan! _Spock's mouth gaped open slightly, and he immediately shut it.

"That is…very impressive," he said.

"Thanks," Nyota answered, staring at her feet, smiling.

"How did you learn Swahili and Russian at the same time?" Spock asked her.

"Well," she began, "My dad was the Kenyan ambassador to Russia when I was little. We used to move back and forth between countries, so I learned both. What about you?"

"Me?" he stared at her in confusion.

"You speak both English and Vulcan," she said.

"Oh." _Of course,_ he thought. "Since English is the most commonly spoken language on the planet, many Vulcan children are taught to speak it. That, and my mother speaks English. And Vulcan. She and my father speak both languages as he is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth and…well…it was logical."

"How come you came here? To Iowa?" Nyota questioned, "It's not exactly big on the interstellar scale."

Spock thought about it. "…I do not exactly know," he said, frowning. "My parents have not adequately explained it to me. I suppose it is because there are many Starfleet installations nearby, but…I do not really know."

"Odd," Nyota commented.

Then: "Can I touch your ears?" she asked.

Spock stopped walking and stared at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Sorry," Nyota apologized, looking embarrassed, "You don't have to."

"…You can, if you want," he said, hesitantly, pulling off his beanie to reveal his hair and ears.

To his immense relief, she did not laugh or even mention his awful haircut, but simply reached up and ran her fingers along the slight curve of one of his pointed ears.

Her fingers were soft, he reflected. And warm. At least, in the chilly air they were.

Nyota glanced at his face. "Sorry," she said, guiltily, "Do you want me to stop?"

"I dunno about you guys, but I think she should," growled an angry—and familiar—voice.

Nyota jumped, withdrawing her hand from Spock's ear. Both of them whirled around to see none other than Tobias approaching them.

This time, he wasn't alone.

Four more boys just as tall and, in some cases, as muscular, stood behind Tobias, all of them leering at Spock.

Tobias was no longer the simple bully he had been on Monday at lunch. Now there was real hate in his eyes, his mouth a tight, furious line as he advanced on Spock and Nyota.

"Stay away from humans, you green little son of a whore," the bully snarled, "You don't belong here. And you never will."

"Go jump off a cliff, you jerk!" Nyota shouted. "Come on, Spock. He's just a big waste of flesh with crap for brains."

"No," Spock said, calmly.

Nyota stopped dead in her tracks. "_What?"_ she demanded, her dark eyes growing wide.

"No," Spock repeated. "Leave me alone," he told Tobias, "or you will regret it."

Tobias laughed, and this time his laugh wasn't a stupid guffaw, but a guttural wolf's howl.

Spock took a deep breath. He was outnumbered, but a slow, pulsing anger had begun to rise in him, an anger that fueled a single thought in his mind:

_If I do not defend myself now, they will never stop._

"Spock!" Nyota protested, "There's five of them! You're going to get smashed to a bloody pulp!"

"You bet that's what's gonna happen," Tobias agreed.

"Spock, don't do it!" Nyota pleaded.

_You called my mother a whore, _Spock thought, his anger rising, _You will not do so again._

"Get 'im, boys!"

* * *

Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty were standing by the cafeteria, hands in pockets, all of them grinning, completely relaxed.

"An' so _then_," Scotty was saying, "th' idiot ties the jump rope ta the glider, right? And he tries tae swing across on it. An' he goes: 'Wheeeeeeee! Me Tarzan!'"

Hikaru burst out laughing.

Len and Jim exchanged glances, both of them smiling. Scotty always had great recess stories to tell, and normally all four of them would've been laughing uproariously, but the two best friends hadn't told Hikaru and Scotty about the student teachers in the office at lunch, although Jim had gotten the full scoop on Len's reason for being at the nurse's office in the first place. (Len knew he was never going to live it down.)

"An' then," Scotty could hardly speak coherently now, tears of hilarity pouring out of his eyes, "he starts screamin', '!'"

Hikaru looked like he was having trouble breathing, he was laughing so hard.

Jim snorted a little, and turned toward the blacktop, noticing a pretty, dark-skinned girl sprinting toward them from the parking lot: Nyota.

"Run, Ny, run!" he shouted at her, playfully, "Where's your Vulcan boyfriend?"

"Go to hell, Kirk!" she spat at him as she ran past.

"Ooooooh, buuuuurn!" Len, Hikaru and Scotty chorused as Jim slapped a hand over his heart, pretending to be affronted.

All four of them were laughing now, Scotty and Hikaru still in hysterics over Tarzan.

"She's mad at you, man," Len told Jim, grinning.

"She's always mad at me," Jim answered, "Hey, I wonder where Tobias is. The other day he kept threatening to come beat me up again."

"He's a coward," Len said, simply, shrugging.

"Oh, jeez…that was awesome!" Scotty howled, clutching at his sides.

Jim and Len started to laugh again, slightly.

"It was," Jim agreed, "Wonder where she's running off to."

"What the heck was that green stuff on her face?" Hikaru snorted.

Len's smile faded abruptly as he remembered something someone had said after Jim and Spock's fight.

_Jeez, how did they get grass stains all the way over here?_

_I'm gonna remember that 'till I die!_

Slowly, a look of horror came over his face as he realized exactly where Tobias and his gang were.

"What?" Jim asked, his own smile fading as he noticed Len's distress. "Len, what's wrong?"

Len looked Jim in the eye. "Spock's blood," he said at once, "It's Spock's blood."

Jim's eyes went wide. His smile disappeared.

Then he turned and ran full tilt toward the parking lot.

"Jim, _no!"_ Len shouted.

But it was too late. Jim was long gone.

* * *

Spock bit back a gasp of pain as he blocked a heavy blow from one of Tobias's cronies. True, he was far stronger than an average human boy, but the gang attacking him were all bigger—and most of them stronger—than he was, not to mention the fact that it was five to one.

_An unfair fight, _he thought, darting out of the way as a large fist flew at his head, _But people fight differently here, as I have learned. Or at least, should have learned._

Then, before he even realized what was happening, someone landed a punch squarely in his face.

Spock felt his lip split and his teeth shake, warm blood pouring into his mouth.

He staggered back a few paces and felt hands close tightly around his arms. He struggled to get loose, but couldn't move. Tobias stood before him, wearing a triumphant smirk.

"Go back to Vulcan, you little bastard freak," he snarled.

"You first," Spock answered, and spat green blood at the bully's feet.

Tobias rolled up his sleeve and drew back his fist to strike.

And then, before anyone knew what had happened, Tobias was staggering to the side, having been tackled by a short, skinny, blond boy who instantly started beating the bully upside the head as hard as he could.

Spock took advantage of his captors' surprise and drove his elbows into their stomachs, lashing violently back at them. To his own surprise, they let go immediately, and he managed to back away just in time to see his vicious rescuer being thrown off Tobias's back and stumbling toward him.

Spock's eyes went wide.

It was his opponent from Monday.

Their eyes met for a split second, but there wasn't time to talk, as two more of the bullies rushed at them again.

Spock's mind was racing as he defended himself—and the boy did the same, with equal success.

_I thought he hated me, _he thought, ducking beneath a punch. _He beat me in a fight. Why is he here? Helping me?_

Flashes of his fight from Monday whipped through his mind as he blocked another blow from one of the bullies.

He was still outnumbered, but at least now he had someone on his side.

* * *

Ten minutes later: the principal's office.

Spock felt exceedingly confused. He and his blond rescuer were sitting across from one another in the small hallway, both of them bloody and silent, while Tobias and his gang were undoubtedly spinning off some far-fetched tale about their complete innocence in the matter.

What exactly had just happened? Spock wondered. It wasn't quite clear to him yet. The gang had come and attacked him, and he had defended himself. At some point, Nyota had run off, probably to alert a teacher. Then the blond boy had come and fought with him, and they had won.

But _why?_

Spock snuck a glance at the ceiling, holding a gauze patch to his scraped arm.

_Well, _said a voice in his head, _there is only one way to find out._

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

The boy looked back at him, blinking. "Do what?" he questioned.

"Why did you come help me?"

The boy shrugged. " 'Cause they were beating the crap out of you."

"But…I thought you hated me."

The boy sighed and stared across the room at the opposite window. "Look, it's…well…I dunno," he said, unhelpfully. "I guess it's 'cause…Tobias and his gang are just a bunch of jerks who think they can push around whoever they want. And you and me, we're the only ones who actually went and stood up to 'em, fists and all, right?"

Spock blinked. "I suppose," he said.

"And then there's also the fact that we're outcasts," the boy continued. "You're new, and I'm, well…you know."

_No…not really, _Spock thought, but listened.

"Outcasts should stick together," he finished, with a shrug.

"…I suppose we should," Spock answered, nodding in agreement, though still very confused.

But deep down, he knew the boy was speaking the truth. He'd been an outcast all his life—tainted with human blood on Vulcan, and now completely different here on Earth.

The boy took a deep breath. "Guess we should reintroduce ourselves, then, seeing as how Monday didn't really work out so well." He cracked an unexpected grin, then spat in his hand and thrust it out at Spock. "I'm Jim," he said, "Jim Kirk."

Spock stared blankly at Jim's outstretched hand, his mouth slightly agape.

"What?" Jim asked.

"…Um. Nothing," Spock answered, in an attempt to sound collected. He spat in his own hand, wincing slightly, and took Jim's, shaking it once and then letting go. "I am Spock."

"Spock," Jim said, grinning. "Cool name."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Saturday morning, Xena Apartment Complex.

Amanda awakened to find the bed empty and the sky outside patched with white, fluffy clouds. She smiled briefly, rubbing her eyes. It was a typical Saturday morning for her—Sarek had arisen early and was most likely busy with something intellectually challenging, either his work or perhaps three-dimensional chess with Spock.

Amanda grinned at the thought. She had no particular interest in the game, but she did love to watch her boys playing it.

She tossed back the covers and stretched, catlike, before stepping out of bed with a yawn, narrowly avoiding stepping on a cardboard box stuffed full of her paper books.

She grimaced, annoyed at her sentimental tendencies to have more than she needed.

She sighed and picked one up out of the box, and her lips curved upward again as she read the title: _The Adventures of Hannedy Rogue, Space Pirate._ It was the book she had read to her son almost every week at bedtime until he could read it on his own—about the age of two.

She turned to page one and read, evoking the words in her memory as she started for the kitchen:

_Hannedy was in a tight spot, backed up against the wall of the engine room, cornered by a tall man with bright yellow eyes and slavering jaws, his sharp teeth coated with blood—partially his, partially hers._

"Mother?"

Amanda stopped in her tracks, blinking in surprise as she almost ran into her son, who was carrying a large tray with a teetering cup of tea and a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar.

"Is this for me?" she asked.

Spock nodded.

"Thank you," she said, picking up the tea before it fell over. Spock almost smiled, then winced, running his tongue gingerly over his split lip.

It was then that she remembered the events of the previous afternoon.

She still didn't quite know what to make of it. From what she had been told, the boy who Spock had fought with on Monday had aided him when he had been attacked by a gang of "unfortunately not very well-parented children", as the principal had euphemized them. The two boys had been on the brink of suspension when a witness, a girl called Nyota, had been brought into the mix, and told the adults exactly what had happened. Spock and his ally had been pardoned, and sent home to nurse their injuries, which luckily were few.

Amanda smiled at her son and planted a kiss on his cheek, walking over to the kitchen table and sitting down.

Spock followed her and set the tray down in front of her.

"Mother," he continued, solemn as usual, "May I ask a favor of you?"

Amanda met his eyes. "Anything," she said, then grinned a little and added, "within reason."

"Of course," Spock replied, sitting down next to her. He took a deep breath. "Could you drive me to the abandoned lot on Derby Drive next to Farmer Barrett's cornfield?"

He said this all very quickly, as if getting it out sooner would help lessen the impact.

Amanda opened her mouth slightly. "Uhh…" she began, slightly overwhelmed, "…what for?"

Spock swallowed. "I am meeting some…friends…there."

"Some friends?" Amanda thought hard. Spock hadn't mentioned any friends he'd made recently, unless he meant…

"The boy who helped me yesterday," he said, completing his mother's thought.

Amanda blinked. "And he wants to meet you at an…abandoned lot?"

Spock nodded. "It is unconventional, but he apparently meets his friends there on a regular basis."

"…Hmmm."

Amanda's mind was racing. Why an abandoned lot? What kind of boys hung out around an abandoned lot? It was a good thing that Spock was making friends, but the blond boy was a bit of a conundrum to her.

_Still, _she thought, _he did help Spock yesterday._

Amanda looked at her son, who was staring expectantly back at her, her little boy, who she knew she couldn't protect forever.

She took a deep breath, smiling gently. "All right," she said, "When do you need to go?"

* * *

At the playground, two hours later.

Spock glanced out the window of the car as his mother drove down Derby Drive, moving quickly past the cornfield toward the edge of the woods.

"Spock," Amanda said, frowning out at either side of the road, "I don't see any empty lots around here…are you sure he said Derby Drive?"

Spock nodded. "I am sure," he said, "We may have missed it."

"Maybe you're early? Or late?" she asked.

"We are almost perfectly on time," he replied.

"True, but…well…there's really no other explanation for it, Spock," she told him, "Is it possible that these boys were just…you know…jerking you around?"

Spock fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then he spoke: "There it is."

Amanda slowed the car and glanced over to where Spock was now pointing.

"It is certainly an abandoned lot," he commented lightly, gazing out at the heaps of junk and the antique cars that occupied the space, "but it is not empty."

Amanda pulled over to the edge of the sidewalk beside the lot, scanning the area for anyone. She frowned.

"…Spock, I don't see—" she began, then stopped as a tall, brown-haired boy opened the door of one of the antique cars, stepped outside, and turned around, catching sight of Spock and his mother.

The boy stared at them for a moment, then ducked back into the car, saying something to someone else on the other side.

"Do you know him?" Amanda asked her son.

Spock cocked his head to one side, thinking. "He is in my class," he said, "and he was there when I got into the fight with Jim."

At that moment, another boy stepped out from the other side of the car, this time a short, skinny blond boy, who looked as if he'd been fighting.

The blond waved at Spock and walked over, the tall, brown-haired kid and two others following him.

"That is them," Spock said, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

* * *

Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty approached the car where Spock and his mother, a willowy, dark-haired woman, were getting out. Spock's mother had a slightly uneasy look on her face, while Spock was expressionless.

Jim put on a charming smile and said, addressing the tall, willowy woman, "Hi. You must be Spock's mom."

Len resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Oh, you slimy little smooth-talker, _he thought, as Jim stuck out a hand for the woman to shake.

Slightly taken aback, the woman took it and shook it once before letting go.

"Yes," she said, hesitantly, "I'm Spock's mother."

"I'm Jim Kirk," Jim said, with a hint of pride, "Pleased to meet you."

_Pleased to meet you? _Len thought, incredulously, _He sure is laying it on thick, isn't he? When the heck did this become a Dickens novel?_

Spock's mother gave a slightly embarrassed-yet-flattered smile.

"Um…thank you," she said.

"Your son is a brave kid, you know?" Jim asked her, smiling, "He's not too scared to stand up to bullies."

At this, Spock raised an eyebrow, but was otherwise silent.

Spock's mother beamed. "Thank you," she said. She glanced around and then continued: "So…an abandoned lot?"

Len watched Jim put on an apologetic face.

_Oh man, you're going for it, aren't you? _he thought, trying not to smile.

"Yeah…" Jim began, theatrically running a hand through his hair, "…well…I know it looks dangerous, but we're always careful. We never touch anything sharp or really dirty and we always wash our hands after we get home…" He turned his eyes up at Spock's mother's face.

_Moment of truth, buddy, _Len thought, _do-or-die. _Then—_Oh my God, he's pulling a puppy face._

Sure enough, Jim's ice blue eyes were wide and round, his lower lip just barely jutted out in a pout. "Pleeeease let Spock play with us?" he begged, hopefully. "We'll get him back in one piece."

_Jeez, it's like Oliver Twist meets womanizer. _Len tried not to laugh as Spock's mother smiled all the wider.

"All right," she said, "When should I pick him up?"

* * *

Jim smiled and waved as Spock's mother drove away waiting for her to round the corner before letting his smile morph into a grin.

He turned to face Spock, who said, calmly, "My mother was initially worried about my coming here today." The smallest of smiles quirked his lips. "She is no longer worried."

Jim's grin widened. "That's good. How else would ya make it out here to hang out?" he asked. He shrugged. "Well, anyways, we've got business to 'tend to."

_Business._ This was good, Spock reflected. It was a concept he was familiar with—more familiar with, at least, than "hanging out".

He followed Jim and the three others to one of the antique cars.

" 'Kay," Jim said, "Spock, this is Hikaru," he gestured to a dark-haired Asian boy, "Scotty," he pointed to a skinny redheaded boy tinkering with some kind of gadget, "and Len." Jim pointed to the tall, brown-haired boy from Spock's class. "Guys, this is Spock," Jim introduced Spock to the boys.

"We know," Len said.

"Ye fight really well," Scotty commented.

"Thank you…" Spock answered, slightly confused by their lack of hostility. He had, after all, almost severely injured their friend.

"So!" Jim announced, delightedly rubbing his hands together, an excited grin on his face. "Who wants to catch a monster?"

Spock blinked. _A monster?_

* * *

As Amanda got back into the car, started the engine, and started to drive away, a delighted smile spread across her face. It was only when she was rounding the corner and disappearing from the boys' view that she allowed herself to laugh.

What a smooth-talker that boy was. _I haven't had a human boy try to charm me like that since high school, _she thought. _I probably shouldn't enabled his ego by letting him think he fooled me…oh well. _She grinned, turning onto the main drag through town. _Spock will go far with this one._

This, she knew, was true in more than just the sense that told her that Jim would grow up to be a ladies' man. He seemed to be able to take care of himself easily enough. Spock could learn a thing or two from him about the way things worked on Earth. The rules of fighting, for instance.

Amanda smiled at this, and drove on.

* * *

Spock blinked at Kirk, his eyebrow raised in question.

"A monster?" he asked, looking around the group for some hint that this might be some type of elaborate game—a role playing scenario, perhaps?

Jim nodded seriously.

"Aye," Scotty said, sagely, "Like a chupacabra."

Spock was about to ask exactly what a chupacabra was, but was interrupted as Jim spoke up: "Come on. We gotta show you something, Spock."

He started off away from the playground towards a large cornfield parallel to the road. Wordlessly, the others followed him.

Spock hesitated for a moment. His mother hadn't seemed worried about his staying here—at least, not after she'd met Jim—and she had neither told him to stay at the abandoned lot, nor put any real restrictions on his whereabouts, but…

_But what?_ asked the snide voice in his head, _Did you really expect to remain here until you went home?_

"Spock! You coming?"

Spock was jolted out of his reverie as Jim called his name from a good fifty feet away.

Spock answered, "Yes," and started off, jogging to catch up.

When he did, they had reached the edge of the cornfield.

"It's in here," Jim said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, as the other boys waited.

They resumed walking and were soon surrounded by vegetation.

_Odd, _Spock thought, _I have never seen any crop remotely like this on Vulcan._

Of course, Spock had been living in an area unsuitable for agriculture back on Vulcan—on the edge of the desert—so he supposed it was possible that the two planets shared similar vegetables.

" 'Kay," Jim announced, "here we are."

Spock stepped out of the vegetation and into a wide, clear, curved path where the corn had been flattened—the outer ring, he realized, of what had to be a circle.

All eyes were fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.

Spock blinked. "Fascinating," he said.

" 'Fascinating'?" demanded Len, indignantly, "That's all you can think to say? 'Fascinating'?"

Spock shrugged. "Well, I am speaking the truth. Crop circles have been appearing on Earth in cornfields for centuries. I thought crop circles were a myth, the results of human nature—the desire to play pranks on others."

"It's not a prank," Len retorted, flatly, "This is something else."

"Oh, what, now you're suddenly a believer?" Hikaru asked, raising his eyebrows at Len. "What happened to 'There's no monster, and you are guys and acting childish'?"

Len went slightly red and snapped, "I've changed my mind!"

"Hey, cool it, guys," Jim interjected. He turned to Spock. "But Len's right, it can't be a prank. This happened…'bout a week ago. Friday night. And the next morning, there was a guy from Starfleet checking it out. Something big is going on."

"The former idea is improbable, but not impossible," Spock insisted.

"Then why was Starfleet involved with the investigation?" Jim asked.

Spock paused for a moment, thinking. "I suppose that would complicate matters," he answered, "but one must consider the idea that Starfleet has great presence in this area—perhaps they are lending officers to help."

"I don't think, if they were lending officers, that someone with a commander's rank would be standing around in a crop circle with the sheriff," Len countered, rolling his dark eyes, "Not to mention what Jim and I heard in the nurse's office yesterday."

At this, Scotty and Hikaru's ears seemed to perk up.

"What?" Scotty demanded.

"Nurse's office?" questioned Hikaru.

"Why haven't we heard about this!"

"What happened in the nurse's office?"

"Why didn't ye tell us?"

"Guys, relax!" Jim held up a hand in protest. "We were gonna tell you after school yesterday, but then Spock got attacked and there wasn't any time, okay?"

He exchanged a glance with Len and then continued: "There were two student teachers talking about something happening at the shipyard—something weird and out of the ordinary."

"What?" Scotty asked, impatiently.

"They didn't know, that's the point! They said the cops weren't telling us stuff."

"Not telling us stuff—" Hikaru demanded, but Jim cut him off.

"Just wait a sec! They said Christopher Pike—that's the guy we saw last Saturday, the Starfleet guy—was gonna be at some kind of meeting at the Russian Embassy. Tonight." Jim's eyes were bright with excitement, his breath visible in the frozen air, coming in hard gusts.

_Christopher Pike._ For some reason, that name sounded familiar to Spock. He thought hard, trying to recall where he had heard it before…

"So you realize what we hafta do," Jim continued, looking around at his friends, "…we gotta crash that meeting."

That was when Spock remembered. The conversation his parents had had the night before at dinner. He had hardly been listening, too consumed by the shock he'd received when Jim had come to his aid.

"_But surely this investigation won't hinder negotiations, will it?" _his mother had asked.

His father had shaken his head. _"I spoke with Commander Pike this morning," _he had answered, _"He seems to think that business will continue to proceed smoothly. He will be present at the open house on Saturday night, or so I have been told."_

_He will be present at the open house Saturday night._

Spock blinked. He was roused back to attention by Len's scoff of incredulity.

"We _what?"_ he demanded. "We have to do _what?_ Jim! Think about what you're saying! It's at the Russian Embassy! There'll be tons of guards all over the place, especially if it's as important as you say it is."

"Aye, lads," Scotty added, nervously. "We'd be trespassing on foreign territory. Nae the best idea. I dunno what the laws on illegal immigrants are in Russia, but they can't be much different than here."

"We can't just crash a meeting like that!" Len protested.

"We have to!" Jim said forcefully. "Do you guys wanna figure out what's going on or not? We have to crash that meeting!"

"No…"

All eyes turned to Spock, who looked back calmly. Silence fell.

"No," Spock repeated, more loudly. "We do not have to…as you say…crash it. We can simply walk in."

Jim frowned at him. "How?"

Spock gave his new companions the slightest twitch of a smile. "My father is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth…and he will be attending the meeting."

A very long silence fell.

Spock could feel everyone's eyes on him as they processed his words.

"…Wait…" Len began, frowning, "…I don't get it. Your dad's the _Vulcan ambassador_ to Earth, and you live in _Iowa?"_

"Why the heck d'ye live in Iowa, of all places?" questioned Scotty.

"Yeah," Hikaru added, "Why not San Francisco? That's where Starfleet Headquarters is."

Spock opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Why _was_ he living in Iowa? He fell silent, lost for words.

"I…I do not know," he said.

Jim, who appeared to be thinking, nodded. "That is weird," he remarked. "But it's beside the point." A grin appeared on his face. "This is good," he said, "But will your dad let us tag along?"

Spock's smile returned. "I will appeal to my mother."

"I want to come with you!" said a decidedly unfamiliar voice from nearby, making everyone jump in surprise.

From out of the corn came a short, skinny little boy with curly, light brown hair. He had large, excited hazel eyes, an eager expression on his face, and a thick accent.

"Who are you?" Spock asked, curiously.

"Pavel Chekov!" the boy announced, proudly.

"I know you!" Len exclaimed, pointing at him, "You're that kid from yesterday! You're the one who bloodied Christine's nose."

"You're the new kid in Mrs. Underwood's class," Hikaru added.

"What grade are you in?" questioned Len, scrutinizing the boy.

The boy pulled an indignant face. "Fourth. What grade are you in?" he challenged.

"Doesn't matter, seeing as how you're too young to come."

"I could help you!"

"How old are you anyways?"

The boy crossed his arms. "Nine," he said, defiantly.

Len turned to Jim. "I rest my case," he announced.

The boy looked expectantly at Jim, who sighed.

"Sorry, Pavel, but he's right. You're way too young for this," he told the boy. "It's a monster hunt, not a walk in the park."

The boy's hopeful look slowly morphed into one of disappointment. "But I can help you!" he protested.

"Not with this. Sorry." Jim looked around at the others. "Come on," he said, "We gotta go."

One by one, they exited into the corn, leaving the boy looking crushed and hurt.

Once they were far enough out of earshot, Jim spoke again: "We'll need to think up an excuse to throw our parents off track. Well…all except you, Spock."

"Sleepover?" Len suggested.

All eyes turned to Hikaru, who shook his head. "I can't," he said. "Yumiko has the flu. I'm not allowed to have people over."

"So we camp out at the playground," Jim answered, shrugging. "Simple. So, whoever needs to make excuses go and make them, and we'll meet back here for leaf-diving contests in half an hour!"

Scotty and Hikaru cheered in unison: "Huzzah!" and, punching the air, ran off in opposite directions.

* * *

All in all, they day was a complete success. Scotty and Hikaru managed to get approval from their parents for a sleepover (Scotty's parents thought he was spending the night at Hikaru's house and vice versa), and sleeping bags were collected and stashed in one of the antique cars, ready for use.

The leaf-diving contests were the highlight of the morning, however, where a vicious battle between Len and Spock for the title of "Most Creative" ended in a draw, which irritated them both, Len slightly more so than Spock, but left everyone else in good spirits, reflecting on the show they had gotten to see.

At round two, Scotty and Hikaru were called home for lunch. Spock's mother showed up soon after that, and Spock departed with the promise of meeting them to pick them up at six thirty that evening.

Jim and Len, as usual, were left alone.

Sitting on top of one of the antique cars, Jim grinned at the could-patched sky.

"You know," he said, "that one move you pulled where you belly flopped into the leaves, and then pretended the leaf pile was eating you alive…that was pretty funny."

"No worse than what Spock pulled. I'm not even gonna _go_ there," Len replied, rolling his eyes.

Jim glanced over at Len, frowning. "What is it when you and him, by the way?"

"What?" Len asked.

"Don't play stupid. You were bickering the whole time."

Len shrugged.

"Look. The last thing I want is you two fighting over my friendship, okay?" Jim told Len, "You're just gonna have to share."

Len shrugged again. "Okay," he said, simply.

Jim grinned. "You really don't like him, do you?"

Len shrugged for a third time. "No," he said. "No, he's all right for a pointy-eared hobgoblin." He looked sharply at Jim and added, "Don't tell him I said that, okay?"

Jim chuckled slightly. "Okay."

The two boys fell silent for a moment, and then Len spoke again: "And he's good for your ego."

Jim burst out laughing.

* * *

Six twenty-five, en route to the abandoned lot.

Spock glanced out the window of the car at the darkening sky as his father turned onto the main drag through Riverside.

_Iowa, _he thought, blankly, remembering Len's words from earlier. _Why Iowa, of all places?_

He frowned and spoke. "Father," he began, "You are the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, are you not?"

His father glanced at him. "I am," he affirmed, nodding once and then turning his eyes back to the road.

"Our family has come to Earth because of your work?"

"Yes."

Spock scrutinized his father, watching for any shift in his expression as he asked, "Then why do we live in Iowa?"

Spock's father frowned slightly as they came to a red light. "As opposed to…?" he queried.

"A hub of political or Starfleet-related activity," Spock suggested, "such as San Francisco, or Beijing, or perhaps in an embassy. I could understand living in a place such as those, but Iowa? Iowa is…is…" he trailed off, searching for the right words.

"To use human terms, 'in the middle of nowhere'?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Precisely," Spock replied.

His father sighed as the light turned green and they moved on. "Well, Spock," he began, "as you stated, we are here because of my work as the ambassador to Earth."

"Specifically?" Spock asked.

"Specifically, negotiations between Earth and Vulcan."

Spock looked expectantly at his father. "Go on," he prompted.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you more than that," his father answered, turning the car toward the cornfields, "Spock, you must appreciate the fact that this information is very sensitive," he added, giving his son a serious look. "What we are discussing cannot be repeated to anyone. Do you understand?"

Spock blinked, knowing instantly that he had been shut down in his search for information. "I…" he began, hesitantly, "…yes. I understand."

His father nodded. "Good."

They fell silent for a moment, and then Spock asked, "Why do we not live in the Vulcan Embassy? Is there a Vulcan Embassy?"

"There is a Vulcan Embassy, but for the purposes of this specific…negotiation…I am involved in, it is necessary that I avoid drawing attention to myself and to my family," his father replied, "Although living in an apartment was a decision made by your mother…"

Spock frowned. _And to my family? _he thought. "Father, these negotiations…are they secret?" he asked.

"As I said before, Spock, I cannot tell you more than what I have already told you," his father told him. "I apologize for keeping you in the dark, but the risk is too great."

The car rolled to a stop before the playground where four boys could be seen sitting atop one of the antique cars. "Find your friends, Spock," Spock's father said, "I would prefer not to be late."

His mind racing, Spock nodded and obeyed, getting out of the car and heading over to where Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty were waiting.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Seven twenty-five, the Russian Embassy, outside.

"…Wow."

"Aye, wow is right."

"Look at 'em all! There must be a gazillion of 'em!"

"And all the colors, too…half of these I've never even seen!"

Sarek glanced briefly up at the rapidly darkening sky and wondered how he had come to agree to this.

He was standing at the gate before the Russian Embassy, waiting patiently for Spock, and the four friends the boy had elected to bring along with him.

The friends in question, some of whom seemed to have a terrible sense of formal dress, judging by their mismatched clothing choices and by the manner in which they had attempted to arrange their hair, were standing nearby ogling not the magnificent architecture of the building before them, nor the guests entering, but a tall, chartreuse-haired man holding an exceptionally large jar of marbles, with a label reading: "Guess the number, win a prize!"

A couple of paces back stood Spock, looking a tad perplexed by his friends' fascination with the tiny, colorful glass spheres.

Spock turned to face Sarek, and the two of them shared a look of mutual confusion, both of them thinking the same thing: _Fascinating._

Spock turned back to his friends for a moment, then glanced back at his father again, who simply arched an eyebrow, as if to say something along the lines of: "It would be unwise to delay any further."

Spock seemed to agree, as he then turned back and tapped the shoulder of the blond boy in the center of the group—one of the better dressed ones—and said something quietly to him.

The blond boy nodded, relayed the message to the others, and then followed Sarek and Spock to the gates.

It was time to get down to business.

* * *

1588 Noonien Avenue, Nyota's room.

"I gotta go soon," said Gaila, grinning, her bright red hair hanging loosely about her flushed face, freed from the confines of its ponytail. "What were you gonna show me?"

Nyota whose ponytail was still up, grinned back at Gaila and started rummaging around beneath her bed.

"Don't tell Jan and Chris I showed you this," she answered, a conspiratorial giggle escaping her lips as she pulled aside a large, fluffy, stuffed animal lizard. "I'm not sure I want them to know about it just yet. Oh, _there's_ Zady."

"Sure. Where are Jan and Chris, anyhow?" Gaila questioned, examining her fingernails.

"At some kind of party or something. Has to do with Starfleet," Nyota said. "S'why they weren't at dance."

Gaila snorted. "Starfleet throwing a party? For what?"

"I dunno. So all the military people can get together and relax or something."

"I didn't think the military _threw_ parties."

"I guess they do." Nyota reemerged from under the bed, dragging with her a medium-sized silver cube, glowing with excitement.

Gaila stared at the cube. "…A box," she said, unimpressed. "You wanted to show me…a box."

Nyota gave her friend a look. "It's not _just_ a box," she said, "check it out."

She reached to the back of the cube and pressed a small, almost-invisible button. The top of the cube slowly crept open to reveal a small screen, an even smaller keypad, a large black knob, and a tiny speaker stretching across the top.

Gaila's mouth gaped open slightly, and then she blinked and took a seat on the floor next to Nyota. "What is it?" she asked, entranced.

"It's a radio," Nyota answered.

"Pretty fancy radio," Gaila remarked.

"I know. But check this out." Nyota's fingers flew over the keypad with the speed and precision of someone who has punched in a single set of numbers many, many times.

A message flashed up on screen: Commander Pike, you are clear for communications.

Gaila's eyes went huge. "Oh my God, Ny…" she gasped, "You hacked into Starfleet communications?"

Nyota shook her head. "I stumbled across it one day when I was messing around with the keypad," she whispered, "It's how I've been learning my languages so fast. I listen to peoples' conversations. Please don't tell!"

"Tell? _Tell?"_ Gaila demanded. She let out a shriek of laughter. "No way! This is the coolest thing I've ever seen! Can we listen to something?"

An excited smile spread across Nyota's face. She nodded quickly and turned the knob on the box, watching as a series of numbers flashed up on screen, changing as she turned the knob, adjusting it carefully and then stopping it at a particular number.

A stream of words in Mandarin Chinese flew out of the speaker.

Gaila stared at the radio, transfixed, as Nyota hurriedly lowered the volume on the keypad.

"What are they saying?" Gaila asked.

"Um…" Nyota strained to listen for a moment, and then spoke: "….Helmsman Jiang, you are clear for takeoff."

Gaila's eyes went—if it were possible—even wider. "That is so _cool_, Ny!" she squealed.

"I know!" Nyota squealed back, "And it can go both ways!"

"…You mean…?"

"I can talk to people on it, too."

"No way!" Gaila's jaw dropped. "Can I try?"

Nyota suddenly put her hands in front of the radio, shaking her head. "We can't," she whispered.

"Why?"

" 'Cause it's not my code, remember? It's Commander Pike's! And if they find out what I've been doing they'll take away my radio, and I won't be able to listen…" Nyota trailed off, biting her lip, looking horrified at the idea. She fell silent for a moment, and then looked back at Gaila and quickly pleaded, "So please don't tell!"

Gaila shook her head. " 'Course I won't!" she said, "Swear it!"

Nyota, looking immensely relieved, smiled. "So…" she began, "…wanna hear Arabic?"

* * *

Pavel waited on the sidewalk before the Russian Embassy as his father turned off the engine of their car and stepped out, carrying with him the keys and a large bottle of vodka.

"_Are we late?" _Pavel asked, looking around at the crowd of people—mostly adults, he noted—moving through the wrought-iron gates toward the front entrance.

"_A little," _his father answered, locking the car _"but it's all right to be a little late to a party."_

Pavel considered this, looking around. _Da, there's so many people here we won't be noticed, _he thought. Then: _I feel so short. I'm probably the only boy here. _His shoulders slumped, recalling countless scenarios where he had been at some Starfleet function with his parents, and had been swamped by a stampede of teenage girls and older women, all cooing about how cute he was. Then he recalled, smiling slightly, how his mother would wink at him, giving him the signal to pull out of his pockets the two mechanical but very lifelike mice she had given him, and politely ask the cooing women if they wanted to meet "Boris and Natasha". His smile grew, remembering how most of them would instantly change the subject, or else hear someone calling their name and have to leave.

_But Boris and Natasha got lost when we moved, _Pavel thought, his heart sinking again, _And Mama isn't here anymore._

"_Come on, Pavel," _his father called, as he headed not toward the main entrance but in the opposite direction, away from the main gate.

"_Where are we going?" _Pavel asked, frowning as he jogged to catch up with his father.

"_Around the back," _his father answered, _"The groundskeeper here is a friend of mine, and I want to bring him a bottle of vodka."_

They stopped at a smaller iron gate about a hundred feet from the main entrance, and Pavel's father pulled a card key from his pocket and swiped it over the scanner. The light on the gate flashed green, and it clicked open.

Pavel followed his father onto the grounds across the damp grass to a small shed, where soft music could be heard emanating from inside.

Pavel's father stopped before the door and knocked once. Shuffling footsteps could be heard from inside.

"_Da?" _asked a raspy, wavering voice.

"_Arkady, it's Alexander," _said Pavel's father.

Several locks on the door clicked, and the door swung slowly open, flooding the doorway with warm, orange light, revealing a small, bent man with wispy white hair poking out from beneath a dark green cap, and a blindfold tied across his eyes.

_Blind, _Pavel thought, stepping hesitantly into the small room after his father, who shook the old man's hand.

"_Ah," _the old man croaked, in Russian, _"my one visitor. And you've brought someone along with you. Who is it, Alexander?"_

Pavel looked at his father, his eyes wide. _How can he hear me? _he thought, _I haven't made a sound._

"_Arkady, this is my son, Pavel," _Pavel's father said, _"Pavel, this is Arkady. He is the groundskeeper here."_

"_Yes, your father has mentioned you." _Arkady stuck out a wrinkled hand missing its ring finger.

Apprehensively, Pavel took the old man's hand and shook it. _"Hello," _he answered in a small voice.

"_You are young," _Arkady said, absently rubbing the spot on his blindfold where his left eye would have been.

Pavel nodded. Then, realizing he was nodding to a man who couldn't see, spoke: _"I am nine."_

"_A good age, nine. I still had my eyesight then."_

"_You have your eyesight now, when you use your sight aid," _Pavel's father said, gesturing to a thin, metal visor resting on a cluttered desk.

"_Sight aid. Hah!" _Arkady scoffed, _"the damned thing doesn't fit right. Never has. The blindfold is more comfortable when I'm not working."_ He turned to Pavel, and Pavel got the odd feeling the old man could see him somehow, even though he was blind. _"You want to know how I lost my eyesight, boy? Hmm? Shrapnel." _Arkady pointed to the blindfold tied around his face. _"From a grenade blast._ _But it's all gardening for me now." _He turned to Pavel's father. _"Shouldn't you two be at the party?"_

"_I wanted to drop this off." _Pavel's father placed the bottle of vodka in Arkady's hand.

A pair of bristly eyebrows emerged from beneath Arkady's blindfold. _"Vodka," _he said, running his fingers over the bottle, _"Authentic vodka. From the old country. To what do I owe this pleasure?"_

Pavel's father shrugged. _"It's what friends do," _he said.

For a moment, Arkady looked speechless. _"I…thank you,"_ he said, _"Thank you."_

Pavel's father smiled. _"You're sure you won't come with us?" _he asked.

"_Da, no one wants a grumpy old gardener at a fancy party," _Arkady replied, _"With your exception, of course."_

Pavel peered around his father at the visor on the desk. _I wonder how it works, _he thought.

"_Pavel," _Arkady said, suddenly, making Pavel jump,_ "would you like to try on my sight aid?"_

Pavel looked hopefully up at his father, who nodded, smiling.

"_Da,"_ he said, his eyes bright.

Arkady picked up the visor and handed it to Pavel, who slid the ends of hit over his ears like a pair of sunglasses.

"_The on button is at the right," _Arkady said.

Pavel reached up, hit the on button, and gasped as the world emerged in a swirl of color.

"_How does it work?" _he asked.

"_It uses light filters to show different parts of the electromagnetic spectrum than the normal human eye sees," _Arkady explained.

"_From infrared to UV?"_

"_Da," _the old man said, impressed. _"Alexander, your son is a clever boy. Few nine year olds I have met know that." _He shifted toward Pavel in his eerie manner and added, _"You can isolate different bands of the spectrum. Turn the dial one notch to the left for ultraviolet."_

Pavel turned the dial on the left side of the sight aid. For a moment, nothing happened, but then—

Pavel gasped again as the colors switched to hues of blue and purple.

"_Look outside," _Arkady pushed open the shed door.

Pavel did so and saw, with shock, that he could now see hundreds of tiny flowers standing out against the dull leaves of the hedges.

Arkady smiled. _"Now you see what the butterfly sees."_

Pavel tried infrared after ultraviolet, looking at the heat patterns in and out of the shed.

"_Thank you," _he said, taking off the visor and placing it in Arkady's hand.

Arkady gripped the visor with slight difficulty due to the lack of his ring finger, and set it back down on the messy desk.

"…_How did you lose your finger?" _Pavel asked, curiously.

"_That?" _The old man laughed. _"That wasn't shrapnel. No, no…I got that after the blast." _In his odd, perceptive manner, he turned back to Pavel's father. _"Anyways, thank you so much for this, Alexander. You are too good to an old man."_

Pavel's father smiled. _"You're welcome. Pavel, shall we go?" _he asked.

Pavel nodded. _"Da," _he said, _"it was nice meeting you, Sir."_

"_And you, boy," _Arkady replied as Pavel followed his father out the door. _"Good luck."_

The shed door swung gently shut behind them.

"_Father," _Pavel asked as they walked back toward the main entrance, _"What did he mean when he said he didn't lose his finger in the grenade blast?"_

Pavel's father's smile faded. _"There are some things only he can tell us, Pavel," _he said, gravely, _"I'm sure that if he wanted to, he would have."_

* * *

Upon entering through the front door of the Russian Embassy, Jim instantly knew something was wrong.

The room that he and the others had entered was not set up with individual tables and chairs for a top-secret war meeting, but crowded with laughing, smiling people in formal wear and Starfleet dress uniforms, holding glasses of champagne and chatting contentedly.

Jim blinked. Slowly, he turned to Spock and said, quietly, "um…I thought this was a meeting."

Spock looked around the room, expressionlessly. "The misconceptions I held were no less incomplete than yours," he replied, calmly. "This does complicate things a bit."

"_Complicate _things!" Len hissed, whirling to face Spock, "It's a _cocktail_ party for cryin' out loud! How are we supposed to get information now?"

Spock regarded Len with a barely perceptible smile. "Do not underestimate the unfailing ability for adults to talk about their work, even when they are supposed to be relaxing," he said. "We will find information here." He turned to Jim, adding, "But if we do not, your abilities to manipulate adults would aid us greatly."

Jim grinned. "I'll try," he answered.

Len rolled his eyes, turning away, and then jumping and immediately turning back, a horrified look on his face.

Jim stared at him. "Len, what's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"_Christine," _Len whispered, "She's _here_. Why the heck is she _here_?"

Jim peered over Len's shoulder across the room to see the diminutive, white-blonde girl standing next to her tall, dark-blonde friend, Janice, and two women in Starfleet dress uniforms. Each set of females were talking to one another, the two girls giggling madly, their older counterparts slightly more dignified. Luckily for Len, it seemed Christine hadn't noticed him yet.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know," he answered. "Maybe her parents are in Starfleet or something."

"Her mother ees a doctor at the Riverside Shipyard," said a familiar voice coated with a thick Russian accent.

Jim, Len, Spock, Hikaru and Scotty all whirled around to face a sixth boy with large, bright eyes and curly, light brown hair.

"Pavel?" Jim demanded, incredulously, "We told you not to come! How the heck did you get in here, anyways?"

Pavel smiled deviously. "My father ees a Starfleet officer, so I was invited. How did _you_ get in here?"

"_We_ were invited," Len snapped. "How else?"

Jim took a deep breath, a bit annoyed he was having to explain this to Pavel again. "Listen," he began, "Just…don't get in the way. All right?"

Pavel pulled a sulky face and crossed his arms in reply.

Jim exhaled and started to walk away through the crowd, the others following him.

Once they'd moved a fair distance away from Pavel, Jim stopped and turned to face his friends.

"Okay guys," he began, "I know we all thought this was gonna be some kind of meeting, but it obviously isn't, so…change of plans. Like Spock said, there's bound to be somebody in here who knows something, so we just gotta ask around, listen to conversations, find out what we can find. Everybody good with that?"

Len huffed a resigned sigh and Scotty and Hikaru nodded eagerly, while Spock merely inclined his head in reply.

As Scotty and Hikaru disappeared into the crowd, Jim glanced between Spock and Len, looking over Len's shoulder to where petite, giggling Christine stood, laughing with her friend. The two girls' mothers had disappeared.

Jim blinked, and then looked at Len again, knowing that they wouldn't get another opportunity like this if they didn't act now, but hating himself for what he was about to do.

"Hey, Len," he began, "you should go talk to her."

Len frowned. "Who?" he asked.

Jim jerked his head in Christine's direction. "Her."

Len glanced over his shoulder. "What, her?" he demanded, "Christine?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jim asked, innocently.

"Why not? Jim, you _know_ why not!" Len snapped.

Jim shrugged. "She might know something, you know. I mean, her mom's in Starfleet."

"Judging by her obvious attachment to you she will most likely be inclined to answer any questions you have to the best of her ability," Spock added.

"Yeah!" Jim exclaimed, "She _likes_ you, Len, she'll answer anything you say! What are you scared of?"

Len stubbornly crossed his arms. "You're _torturing _me, Jim," he said, irritably.

"Spock'll go with you," Jim countered.

Spock glanced at Jim, raising an eyebrow but otherwise silent.

Len looked between Jim and Spock, realizing that he had lost, _again_. He threw up his hands in exasperation: "Fine, _fine!_ I'll go talk to her."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started off toward the diminutive girl.

Taking a deep, controlled breath, Spock exchanged a glance with Jim and then followed Len, resigned to his fate.

_Sorry Len, _Jim thought, _but we might not get any luckier than this tonight._

He turned to face the crowd, searching for a target, and immediately spotting one. _But it sure doesn't hurt to try._

* * *

Len let out an annoyed breath as Spock fell into step beside him. Jim had won. Again. As always.

"I do not understand your aversion to Christine," Spock said, regarding Len curiously, "She is only a little girl."

Len rolled his eyes. "Look," he began, his tone annoyed. "You've obviously never been through this kind of thing, Spock. Christine's just…ridiculously annoying, okay? I wouldn't expect you to get it."

"Because I am Vulcan?" Spock questioned.

"Because you've never met Christine, or anyone as annoying as her."

Spock inclined his head. "I do believe you are blushing, Leonard."

"_Don't_ call me Leonard," Len snapped.

"Why?" Spock asked.

"Because I'll rip your kidneys out."

Spock cocked his head to one side. "Violent thoughts suggest a mental imbalance, you know," he answered.

Len exhaled sharply. _Pointy-eared hobgoblin, _he thought, before taking a deep breath and composing himself as they approached Christine and Janice.

"Hi, Christine," he began, forcing a strained smile.

Christine whirled around, a smile lighting up her pale face. "Leonard?" she asked

Len cringed inside. "Yeah," he answered, "…it's me."

* * *

Jim put on a friendly smile as he reached up and tapped the arm of a tall, pretty teenage girl in a slinky, dark-red dress.

The girl turned around, her glossy dark hair shining in the lights as she moved. She looked bemusedly down at Jim. "Hi," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Hi," Jim said, smiling up at her, "I'm Jim. Jim Kirk." He stuck out his hand for the girl to shake.

The girl blinked. "Uh…" she began, a slight laugh in her tone, "…hi, Jim. I'm Cassie. Nice to meet you."

The two of them shook hands.

"So…do you end up at these parties often?"

Cassie let out an incredulous laugh, as if unable to believe she was being hit on by a ten-year-old. "Um…I guess I do," she answered, "You?"

Jim shrugged. "Not really. I'm just here with some friends. You here with anybody?"

Cassie nodded. "My older sister. She's an interpreter."

Jim grinned. "Is she as pretty as you?" he asked, " 'Cause you're pretty hard to top."

Cassie laughed again. "I'm afraid I might be a little too biased to answer that," she said.

Jim shrugged. "So…" he began, "…what do you know about monsters?"

* * *

"Hi, Jan," Len said to Christine's tall, dark-blonde friend, "How's life?"

"Good," the dark-blonde said, "hey, Chris, I'm gonna get some food, 'kay? I'll be right back."

" 'Kay," Christine answered, staring at Len.

The dark-blonde rolled her eyes and disappeared into the crowd.

"Um…yeah," Len began, "Christine, you know Spock." He gestured to Spock, who inclined his head in greeting.

Christine nodded, still staring at Len. "Yeah," she said, distantly.

"Christine," Spock interrupted.

Christine was abruptly snapped out of her daze and she glanced over at Spock. "Wha…?" she asked.

"We were wondering whether or not you had witnessed or heard of any suspicious activity regarding recent events—" Spock began, but Len cut him off.

"What Spock _means_ to say is, didja hear about all that weird stuff going on with the cornfield?" Len asked, resisting the urge to shoot an irritable glare at Spock.

Christine nodded. "Yeah," she said, "I heard it happened to Farmer Barrett. My mom thinks it was some kinda weird prank or something."

"How come?" Len asked.

Christine shrugged. "I dunno."

"Your mother is a member of Starfleet, is she not?" Spock asked.

"Yeah, she's a doctor at the Riverside Shipyard," Christine answered.

"Does she ever tell you about her work?"

Christine nodded. "Yeah."

"What about the stuff that goes on at the shipyard? Like, weird stuff?" Len asked.

Christine shrugged again. "I dunno," she said, "Not really. A lot of it's supposed to be all top secret, but probably it's just boring shipping stuff."

"So you have not heard anything about—" Spock pressed on, but Len cut him off again.

"Hey, I think Jim's calling us," he interrupted.

Spock raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Len sent Christine a forced smile. " 'Kay, well, I guess we'll see you around," he said, and then turned around, walking away into the crowd, Spock following him.

At that moment Janice walked up, holding a napkin full of cookies and a glass of soda.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

Christine sighed wistfully, staring after Len. "I don't _know," _she said, happily.

Janice rolled her eyes.

* * *

Len and Spock walked back through the crowd in silence, and then Spock spoke: "Jim did not call us," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Nope," Len answered. "He's over there." He pointed across the room to where Jim was standing, chatting up a very pretty teenage girl, who was laughing.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you tell Christine that he had?"

"Because _one_, she knows _nothing_, Spock," Len snapped. "You saw her! She's a total airhead. And _two_, I don't wanna have to talk to her any longer than I have to. She's annoying enough at a distance."

"The same thing can be said about you," Spock replied.

Len shot him a glare.

Spock looked ahead. "I propose we try an experiment," he said.

"What kind of experiment?" Len asked, suspiciously.

"You and I will attempt to speak toward one another in a civil manner for five minutes."

Len stared at Spock. "Why?"

Spock shrugged. "I am curious to see whether not we are capable of such an act. I have confidence in myself, but if you do not believe that you will be able to—"

"Okay, okay, fine!" Len snapped. "Five minutes, starting…" he checked his watch, "…now."

The two boys stared at each other, silent, each one waiting for the other to speak.

"Um…" Len eventually said, awkwardly, "…so. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Easy," Len answered, "a doctor."

"Why?"

Len frowned at Spock. "To help people," he answered, his voice strained. "Why do you ask?"

"I am merely curious," Spock replied. "One's logical desire to help people must be driven by an emotional one."

"Oh. _I_ get it," Len's tone returned instantly to its normal sarcastic quality. "You just wanna get inside my head, is that it?"

Spock gave Len a barely perceptive smile. "My experiment is now over," he said, calmly.

Before Len could come up with a good retort, a voice sounded nearby:

"Len! Spock!"

Len and Spock turned to see Jim walking toward them.

"Hey," he said, "Did you guys find out anything?"

Spock shook his head. "No. It would appear that Christine has no information on recent events at the shipyard."

"Yes, she's a complete airhead, and thank you _very_ much for making me go and talk to her," Len snapped, glaring at Jim.

"Hey, it was worth a shot," Jim answered, shrugging.

Len rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered, "Did you find out anything from Miss Six-Foot-Two Teenager?"

"She's not _that _tall," Jim said, defensively, "She was wearing heels. And no, she hadn't heard anything."

"So we are back to cube one," Spock remarked, gravely.

Jim and Len stared at him.

"Square one, Spock," Jim said, "It's square one."

At that moment, Hikaru and Scotty appeared from within the crowd.

"Hey," Hikaru said.

"Did ye find anythin'?" Scotty asked.

"No," Len answered, dully, "You?"

Scotty and Hikaru shook their heads.

All five boys fell silent, looking toward Jim, who was frowning at the floor, thinking.

"So…now what?" Hikaru asked, eventually.

Jim looked up, a smile growing on his face.

"Who wants to go exploring?" he asked.

* * *

"Jim, _what _are you doing?" Len demanded as he and the other boys followed Jim through the crowd. "What the heck do ya mean, 'go exploring'?"

"I _mean_," Jim answered, "exploring. Looking for documents. Clues. Stuff."

"It's a _cocktail_ _party!"_ Len said in exasperation, "What do ya think we're gonna find?"

"Clues," Hikaru put in, with a shrug.

"Stuff," Scotty added, adjusting the horrible checkered bowtie he was wearing.

"Like what?" Len asked.

"Perhaps one of the officers attending the party left a revealing document somewhere," Spock suggested. "Or not necessarily one of the officers. It _is_ the Russian Embassy, after all."

"Anything's possible," Jim affirmed. "Ah. _Here_ we go."

He stopped at a tall, sliding door just behind the tables of food where a sign was taped up, reading: Restrooms.

Jim waved his handover the sensor and the door began to slide open.

"Restrooms?" Len questioned, "You think we're gonna find something in a restroom?"

"Nah,"Jim replied, dismissively, "But do you really think that that's the only place this door leads?"

The door slid shut as the five boys disappeared behind it.

If someone had been watching the door from the opposite end of the room, they might have noticed that the door opened again a few moments later, but they would not have seen who was entering, simply because that person was not particularly tall.

* * *

The boys soon found themselves faced with a long hallway that was the absolute picture of luxury: here, an elaborate carpet on the varnished wood floor, there, an ornately-framed painting of a czar in full regalia. High above the boys' heads, there hung an ancient saber, enshrined within a glass case.

Jim blinked. He hadn't realized just how luxurious the embassy was—the reception room had been too crowded to really notice much.

"Wow," Len whistled, "Pretty fancy."

"An embassy is a country's symbol of power and prestige," Spock spoke up, "Naturally it is, as you say, 'fancy'."

Len glared at him.

Jim ignored them. "Come on," he said, grinning, and started down the hallway.

Pavel, as quiet as a mouse, watched as the five boys started to walk down the hallway, peeking out from the door of the men's room. Slowly, he opened the door and let it gently swing shut, and started to tiptoe quickly to the nearest doorway, furtively flattening himself against the door, partially obscured by a comfortable-looking chair. A few moments later, when the boys had gotten a few steps ahead, he did the same thing, silently darting to another doorway, repeating the process as the boys walked on, occasionally having to tiptoe faster when they turned a corner or stop and hide when the boys stopped to ogle another symbol of Russian culture.

On one such occasion, Pavel found himself having to dart back around the corner when the boys stopped right across from the doorway he planned to hide in, looking at a beautifully framed black-and-white photograph of three men, who Pavel noticed from his history lessons as the leaders of the Allied Powers in World War II.

Scotty suddenly stopped, looking up at a framed photograph on the wall of three men, his eyes growing wide as he noticed the man on the left.

"_I _know who that is!" he said, excitedly, "that's Churchill! He was th' prime minister of Britain in World War II!"

"Yeah," Jim added, glancing at the man on the right, "and that's FDR."

"An ancestor of mine was a great naval captain in World War II," Scotty said, proudly, "All of Britain went tae war."

"Yeah," Len commented, evenly, "But the U.S. ended it."

Scotty raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me," he began, testily, "but when exactly _did_ the U.S. join the war? Not until _after_ they got attacked."

"Yeah," Len answered, "but we still won the war."

Scotty, looking very put-out, crossed his arms, scoffing, "Aye, but who _warned_ everyone about it before it even happened? '_There's a storm coming.'_ Well? Who did it?"

"Well, yeah, Scotty," Len argued, "but the U.S. did pretty much end it. I mean, we beat the Japanese back to Japan and told 'em to surrender and…" Len trailed off, realizing who was standing nearby.

He and Scotty turned to face Hikaru, who was wearing a wry smile on his face.

"Guys, it happened three-hundred years ago," Hikaru told them, "Just get over it."

Both of them looking rather abashed, Len and Scotty turned back to the photograph.

"So," Jim began, awkwardly, "Who's the guy in the middle?"

"Josef Stalin," Spock spoke up, "He was the leader of Russia during World War II, when Russia defeated Germany and drove the German troops back to Berlin from the east."

"Hmm," Jim mused, thoughtfully. He then glanced down the hallway to see an office door hanging slightly ajar. "_That_ looks promising," he said, and headed over.

* * *

From around the corner, Pavel watched as Spock explained Russia's major role in the defeat of Germany, transfixed at the older boy's knowledge on the topic.

_Now _there's_ someone who's got his facts straight, _Pavel thought.

A few moments later, the boys were moving again.

Pavel waited until they had gone a few paces and quickly dashed into his chosen doorway, watching as they continued down the hallway…and then disappeared behind a door, shutting it with a click.

"Is everybody in here?"

"_Oww!_ That was me foot!"

"Hikaru, watch where you're walking."

"Dangit, Jim, ya whacked me in the face!"

"I believe that if we all stop moving for a moment it will be possible to—_oww."_

"Oh, hey. There's a lightswitch."

"TURN IT ON!"

"Jeez, ok, ok, I'm goin'…"

_Click._

All five boys gave a sigh of relief as the room they'd stepped into was flooded with light, revealing it to be a large, elegant office with an old and probably very valuable desk, upon which sat a large bottle of vodka surrounded by crystal glasses, and a few framed photographs of the owner of the office's family.

The boys, who were standing sardine-packed next to one another by the door, exchanged glances and started to spread out, Hikaru and Scotty looking at a painting on the wall, Spock heading for the enormous bookshelf, and Jim and Len approaching the desk.

Jim's face fell as he noticed the state of the desk. Where he had been hoping to find a mess of top-secret files, there was an empty, clean space, upon which rested, in addition to the vodka and pictures, a coffee cup full of pens and pencils, and a newspaper.

The newspaper had been folded back to show, beneath an article, a picture of a man with a militant expression, slanted eyebrows, and pointed ears. Spiky black tattoos had been inked symmetrically on his face.

Jim frowned at the picture.

"Hey, check it out," he said.

"What?" Len asked, glancing over.

"This guy. He's Vulcan," Jim told him, pointing to the man in the picture. "Wonder what the article's about…"

"What's goin' on?" Scotty question brightly as he and Hikaru approached.

"Where does it start?" Len asked, frowning at the text. "What the heck?"

The boys leaned in for a closer look.

"Why are the letters all backwards?" Hikaru asked, staring at the page.

Spock, who was reaching up to retrieve a heavy-looking book from the bookshelf, answered, "Presumably it is a Russian newspaper, as this is the Russian Embassy, and the text will be written using the Cyrillic alphabet." He walked over, leaving the book, and bent over Jim's shoulder to take a look.

"Look at the guy in the picture," Jim said, "He's Vulcan."

Spock looked, silently regarding with the picture, which abruptly morphed into thoughtfulness and then realization.

Jim, who had been watching the subtle changes in Spock's expression, frowned.

"Spock?" he asked, "What is it?"

Spock did not answer immediately. When he did, his tone was urgent.

"Jim," he said, "the man in the picture is not Vulcan. He is Romulan."

"Romulan?" Jim asked.

"A close cousin of the Vulcan race. We share common ancestry."

"How can you tell?" Len queried, skeptically.

"He is wearing Romulan tattoos of mourning," Spock replied, "but that is beside the point." He turned back to Jim and continued: "There was a time when the Vulcan and Romulan races were one. And in that time, emotion was expressed freely by everyone. It was that expression of emotion that nearly destroyed the race's civilization. Over time, part of that race evolved the capacity to suppress emotion. That part became the Vulcans. The other part, which became the Romulans, did not." Spock paused for a moment. "The Romulans and the Vulcans, since the split of their races, have never had good relations."

"But…I don't understand. What's this got to do with anything?" Jim asked, confused.

Spock took a deep breath. "The Federation, Jim," he said, "Earth is currently in the process of forming an alliance with Vulcan…and at the same time making an enemy of the Romulans."

* * *

Pavel crept over to the door that the five boys had disappeared into and gently pressed his ear to it, straining to hear what they were saying.

It was probably dark inside, he supposed, because they seemed to be repeatedly running into each other.

There was a muffled shout, then a click, and then silence, cut by the sound of footsteps moving away from the door. The voices resumed again, this time fainter.

Pavel pressed his ear against the door harder and held his breath. They were saying something about a newspaper…something about a Vulcan? And backwards letters, that would be Cyrillic…

Pavel's heart gave a sudden leap as he heard another set of voices, also muffled, but deeper, and this time coming from behind him.

He whirled around to see a door labeled "security" in large, white, Cyrillic letters underneath a wide, opaque window, upon which were silhouetted two very tall, burly shadows…

Pavel didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

He turned back to the office door, wrenched it open, and disappeared inside.

* * *

Jim's eyes widened as he realized what Spock was saying. He opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could say anything, however, he was interrupted as the door to the office swung open and someone very small, and very rattled, entered.

"Pavel?" Jim demanded, whirling from the desk as the small boy hurriedly shut the door behind him and locked it.

"Shhhhh!" Pavel hissed.

"What are you—"

"_Shhhh!"_

Pavel pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear what the men outside were saying.

The other boys, as quietly as possible, came over, listening.

There were two deep, male voices, both speaking in Russian.

Very, very quietly, Pavel opened his mouth and began to translate.

" 'What was that?'" he whispered, then, " 'I thought I heard something. Through the door.'"

All six boys jumped as the doorknob rattled violently.

" 'It's locked,'" Pavel continued, as the men spoke again, " 'Let's get the keys—they're back in the office.'"

The voices stopped. The boys heard footsteps leading away from them, and then the sound of another door opening and closing. Then silence.

Jim, Len, Spock, Hikaru, Scotty and Pavel exchanged glances, and then Jim unlocked the door and yanked it open, hissing, "Go! _Go!"_

The others, quickly and quietly, exited the room.

Jim, the last one out, shut off the lights and closed the door behind him before hurrying to catch up with the others, who he found standing in the middle of the hallway, with panicked looks on their faces.

"Which way do we go?" Len demanded, his eyes wide and frantic.

Jim looked at Pavel. Pavel looked back.

"Pavel, get us out of here," Jim told him.

Pavel, although his heart leapt with pride and shock, nodded once and started off at a run, the others in his wake.

* * *

Five minutes later, the reception room.

Jim breathed a sigh of relief as he and the other boys stepped back into the crowd, which was slightly thinner than it had been since they'd left.

"That was close," Hikaru breathed.

"Aye," Scotty agreed.

"Too close," Len muttered, darkly, "So may I ask—what _exactly_ did we gain from that?"

Jim and Spock exchanged looks.

"We know that weird stuff's been going on," Jim answered, "…and we also know that the Romulans, who Earth is making an enemy of, might be behind it."

All eyes turned to Jim.

"So…" Hikaru began, "…now what?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as a loud, deep voice called from behind:

"Pavel!"

Pavel, who had been silent since entering the reception room, jumped and went a ghastly shade of white, turning slowly to face a tall man in a black Starfleet uniform wearing a frown on his face.

"Where have you been?" the man demanded, "I've been searching or you for half an hour. Come on, speak up, boy!"

Pavel, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, stared petrified up at the man. "Well—I—I mean—" he stuttered.

The man raised his eyebrows.

At that moment, Jim took a step forward. "Excuse me, sir," he began, "but Pavel was with us. We were just running around outside."

The man turned his penetrating stare to Jim, luckily causing him to miss Pavel's start of surprise.

"And who are you?" the man asked.

"We're Pavel's friends from school," Jim replied, sticking out his hand. "I'm Jim. Jim Kirk. Nice to meet you."

The man blinked and extended his own hand, shaking Jim's.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat, turning back to Pavel, "Tell me next time before you run off."

Pavel nodded.

The man's stern gaze turned into a smile. "But I'm glad you've found some boys your age to play with." He started to leave, adding, "Don't stray too far; we'll be leaving soon."

Pavel nodded again, "Da, okay, Father," he answered.

Silence fell among the boys as all six of them looked at one another, realizing what had just happened.

And then, a few paces behind him, Jim caught the words:

"No, no, it's fine, Christopher, I found him."

_Christopher…_

Jim turned around to see three men standing a few feet away. One was Pavel's father, evidently rejoining the group. The other was Sarek. And the last…

…the last had on a black Starfleet uniform, light brown hair, blue eyes, and an expression of shock on his face. He was staring directly at Jim.

Jim stared back at him, equally surprised.

Slowly, Commander Christopher Pike walked over.

"Hey…" he began, "…you're that kid."

Behind him, Jim could feel his friends' silence.

Jim nodded. "Yeah…" he answered, "…you're that guy."

Pike nodded back. "You were in the cornfield last weekend."

"Yeah," Jim answered.

"What's your name?" Pike asked.

"Jim," Jim told him, "Jim Kirk."

Pike nodded again. "I'm Christopher Pike. What were you doing there, Jim?"

Jim shrugged. "That's where we play. Me and my friends. We all live around there."

"How have things been going around there?" Pike asked.

Jim cocked his head to one side. "Why do you ask?" he questioned, innocently, "Has there been weird stuff going on? …Like, at the shipyard?"

The commander raised his eyebrows, and then changed the subject. "What did you mean when you said it was a monster that made the crop circle?"

Jim shrugged again. "We were just playing around," he answered. "Playing pretend. You know. Looking for stuff."

Pike frowned. "What kind of stuff?" he asked.

"You know, regular playing-pretend stuff," Jim replied. "Monsters, buried treasure…Romulans…"

Pike's eyebrows went up again, but he said nothing. For a moment he stared at Jim, and then he said, seriously, "If you know something, you need tell me."

Jim was silent.

They stared at one another, Jim and Pike, as if waiting for one another to speak.

Before either of them could say anything, however, they were cut off by Pavel's father who stepped over, calling loudly, "Pavel, it's time to go!"

And Sarek, adding, "I agree, boys, it is—what is the phrase? 'Past your bedtime.'"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sunday morning dawned, bright, windy and cold.

Lying inside one of the antique cars, curled up in a sleeping bag in the driver's seat, Jim awoke with a start at the sound of someone knocking on the window.

He sat up to see Len knocking on the glass, holding up a brown paper bag.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Jim frowned and rolled down the window with the old-fashioned crank in the door.

"When did you get up?" Jim asked.

"Half an hour ago," Len answered, "I couldn't sleep."

Jim glanced back at the passenger's seat where Len's blue sleeping bag and pillow had been abandoned.

"Oh," he said.

"I brought breakfast," Len said, shrugging.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"Monster stir fry," Len told him, jokingly.

Still half-asleep, Jim stared at Len in confusion. "Huh?"

Len didn't get the chance to answer, however, as in the seat directly behind Jim's, Scotty awoke and sat up so fast he looked like he could've broken his back.

"I smell cookies!" he exclaimed to no one in particular.

Jim and Len stared at him, blank-faced.

"Ah…no, actually," Len said, slowly, "Bagels. Admittedly, _chocolate chip_ bagels—"

"Wait," Jim interrupted, his head snapping around from Scotty to Len. "What? _Chocolate chip bagels?"_

Len, looking slightly worried now, regarded Jim and Scotty, "Yeah," he said.

"I've never even heard of that!" Scotty cried, elated.

"Where'd you _get_ those?" Jim asked.

"My grandpa got up early to go fishing, and he was at the store and realized he forgot his bait—"

"Wait, your grandpa got up to go fishing and forgot the bait?"

Len shrugged. "Well, remember, this is the guy who thinks you guys are named Jack, Marvin and Heidi."

"Your grandpa thinks I'm a girl?" demanded Hikaru from the backseat, making everyone jump.

"Jeez, Hikaru, don't do that!" Len protested.

"How the heck d'yet get 'Marvin' outta 'Scotty'?" Scotty asked, frowning.

Len shrugged. "I dunno. Anyways, he came back home and brought these with him. I was getting breakfast when he showed up, gave 'em to me."

"What are those?" Hikaru asked.

"_Chocolate chip bagels…"_ Scotty said, dreamily.

"Have at it," Len said, taking a bagel out of the bag and tossing the bag into the car where Scotty and Hikaru pounced on it like a pair of sharks at a feeding frenzy.

Jim twisted around in his seat. "Guys, save one for Spock, 'kay?" he asked.

"Save what for me?" questioned a cool, emotionless voice right behind Len.

Len jumped and whirled around, revealing Spock, who was wearing a striped beanie with ridiculously long tails, and a light green fleece jacket.

"Jeez!" Len yelped, "Don't _do_ that!"

"Save what for me?" Spock repeated.

"Bagels!" Scotty exclaimed, "You want one? They've got chocolate chips!"

"No, thank you," Spock answered, "I cannot eat chocolate."

A horrified silence fell as Spock said this. It was as if someone had just told the boys that that summer vacation had been canceled every year until they left school.

"You can't eat chocolate?" Hikaru asked, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Why?" Scotty questioned, his mouth hanging open.

"There is a certain chemical in chocolate that acts as an intoxicant in Vulcans," Spock stated.

"Theobromine," Len spoke up, nodding.

Everyone but Jim turned to stare at Len, Spock included.

"…Precisely," Spock confirmed, barely inclining his head in a nod. "How did you know that?"

Len shrugged. "The internet."

Hikaru and Scotty gaped at him.

"_What?"_ Len demanded, defensively, "So I spend my spare time looking up weird chemicals on the internet—big screaming deal!"

"Nothin', nothin', it's jes'…that's kinda amazing," Scotty said, weakly. "That ye know that. It's cool."

Len, who looked like he'd been preparing to retaliate, seemed to deflate at this comment. "…I…oh," he said, quietly, turning slightly pink, "…thanks."

"Yes…" Spock confirmed, seeming slightly intrigued by Len's outburst. "Theobromine is also believed to be an aphrodisiac in humans."

"Aphro-whodewhat?" Hikaru questioned, frowning.

"Love potion," Len muttered, glaring at his feet.

"Ye should give some tae Christine," Scotty said, brightly.

Len shot him a disgusted look in reply.

Jim, his eyes flickering between Len, Scotty and Hikaru, decided to change the subject and slipped out of his sleeping bag, wearing not pajamas but jeans and a tee-shirt, as he always wore camping.

He tugged his sneakers on and opened the car door, stepping out into the wind, and then tapped Spock on the arm and shouted, loudly, "Tag! You're it!" and took off in the opposite direction.

Spock blinked. "Tag?" he questioned, staring blankly at Len, Hikaru and Scotty.

"You're it," Hikaru added, slipping out of his own sleeping bag and pulling on his shoes, yanking open the car door.

"I am what?"

"It," Hikaru said, starting to jog away from Spock.

Scotty, who was doing the same thing, did Spock the favor of explaining the game.

"Ye chase us if you're it," he said, "and try tae tag us!" And he ran, leaving Len to finish the explanation.

Spock stared at Len, frowning. "And then?" he asked.

Len backed away a few steps, a small smile growing on his face.

"Whoever you tag is it," he said, and took off like a shot.

Spock briefly considered his options, and then shook his head and started running after Len.

* * *

Tag lasted for half an hour, during which Spock quickly managed to catch Len, partially because Len was the closest one to him, but mainly because Len was the slowest runner of the group.

After that, Jim was tagged when Len, in an extra burst of speed, managed to catch him behind one of the antique cars.

After that, Jim remained it for quite awhile before tagging Hikaru, who was one of the faster runners. Hikaru then began a tag war with Scotty, which lasted until the end of the game, when it was decided that everyone was too tired to continue.

Spent, the boys flopped down around the remains of their campfire from the night before.

"So…" Hikaru began, grinning, breathing hard, "…Now what?"

"Spaceship?" Scotty suggested, jumping up to get the bag of bagels.

"No," Jim interrupted, "…not Spaceship." He cast a meaningful glance at Spock. "Romulans."

Around the group, grins and smiles faded, and a worried silence fell. Scotty sat back down and Jim continued.

"We all know the Romulans don't want Earth and Vulcan to form an alliance," he said. "And weird stuff's been going on around here. Probably the Romulans are behind it."

"It is very likely," Spock affirmed, "The probability is seventy-three point six four percent."

Len rolled his eyes. "But why _Iowa_ of all places?" he demanded. "I mean, of all the places on Earth, why the heck are they here?"

"I believe I have an answer to that," Spock answered.

All eyes turned to him, and he continued:

"Yesterday, I asked my father why we had moved to Iowa," he said, "and his answers were…vague." Spock paused, and everyone stared at him, silently willing him to go on.

All except Len, who asked, impatiently, "_And…?"_

"He told me that we had moved to Iowa because he is involved in certain negotiations between Vulcan and Earth. And he said he could not tell me more than that," Spock said, and then added, "Technically I was not supposed to tell any of you this, but as interplanetary security is at stake…" He trailed off, not quite understanding what was logical about this, but knowing that it was.

"So that's gotta be the alliance negotiations," Jim realized, nodding slowly.

Another silence fell, and then Scotty burst out, "But why _Iowa?"_

" 'Cause it's secret, dummy!" Hikaru told him.

"Yeah, no one would ever suspect it," Jim added, "So no one could mess up the negotiations."

"Makes sense," Len said, "But the Romulans found out anyways."

"And they're gonna try and mess up the negotiations," Jim said, trailing off as he started to realize just what this meant.

Spock seemed to realize this as well, because he finished Jim's sentence. "Meaning the negotiators are in grave danger. Meaning my father is in grave danger."

Another silence fell. If the atmosphere could've gotten any darker, it did.

Scotty licked his lips nervously. "I dinnae like this, lads," he said, "D'ye think we oughta…ye know…tell Commander Pike or somethin'?"

Jim shook his head. "We don't have any proof," he said. "They won't believe us." He turned to Spock. "But we do have to find out when and where those negotiations are taking place."

Spock nodded in agreement. "It would be logical to gather more information before presenting our thoughts to the local law enforcement."

At that moment, a small voice spoke up from nearby. "I can help," it said, in a thick Russian accent.

Everyone turned to the red antique car, where Pavel was standing, waiting.

"I can help," Pavel repeated, "Gather information."

All eyes turned to Jim, waiting for the final verdict.

Jim met Pavel's eyes, nodded once, and told him, calmly, "Have a seat."

A joyful smile spread across Pavel's face, and, struggling to keep a serious expression, he took a seat next to Scotty.

"So…" Len began, resuming his discussion, "…what else do we do?"

"Nothing," Jim said. "Aside from finding out when the negotiations are? There's nothing we can do but watch out for more weird stuff."

Around the group, there were general nods of assent.

" 'Kay, then," Jim finished, brightening, "On to business!"

"Business?" Len demanded, "_What_ business?"

"Important business," Jim said, unhelpfully.

"What could be more important than the Romulans trying to mess up an alliance between Earth and Vulcan?"

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Why, Len," he said, shocked, "Next Saturday is one of the most important days of the year!"

"You talkin' about Halloween?" Len asked, flatly.

Jim grinned. "Of course! What else would I be talking about?"

* * *

Spock, upon hearing the foreign word, raised his eyebrows and was about to ask just what "Halloween" was, when Pavel, who had been keeping his mouth shut, spoke up and asked the question for him.

"What ees Halloween?" he asked, frowning at Jim.

_Yes, _Spock thought, _What is Halloween?_

"You don't celebrate Halloween in Russia?" Len asked, faint surprise registering on his face.

Pavel shook his head. "Nyet," he said.

"Huh. Didn't know that," Len mused, shrugging.

"Well, anyways," Jim started to explain, "Halloween is a holiday where kids dress up in costumes and walk around at night, collecting candy from the neighbors! At least, that's what people do in the United States. Other countries do different stuff."

Spock stared at Jim. "And what is the purpose of this…Halloween?"

Jim shrugged. "Fun. Candy. Getting to stay up."

"What else do ya need?" Len asked.

Spock and Pavel looked at each other, Spock frowning, Pavel shrugging.

"And how does one prepare for Halloween?" Spock questioned.

Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty exchanged glances, grinning.

* * *

Noon, Xena Apartment Complex, inside the parking garage.

As Spock's mother parked the car in the parking garage beneath the apartment complex, Spock remembered what Jim had said about Halloween just a few hours before.

"_The tradition is we meet up here at dark, and we go around the neighborhood trick-or-treating—"_

_Trick-or-treating, _Spock thought, recalling the term for candy-collecting.

"—_and then we go to Hikaru's house and sleep over, usually. Although this year, I think we should do something different."_

Spock also recalled what Jim had told him about preparing for Halloween.

"_You'll have to get a costume," _Jim had said.

"_What kind of costume?" _Spock had asked.

Jim had shrugged. _"Anything. Scary or otherwise."_

And he had offered no other explanation.

"Spock, sweetheart," Spock's mother called from the back of the car, snapping him out of his reverie, "could you help me with the groceries?"

Spock nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

"Mother," he said, as she handed him a grocery bag and a carton of milk.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling and heading for the elevator.

Spock watched her face as he spoke. "I have been invited to spend the night with my friends this Saturday, and I find myself suddenly in need of…" he paused, uncertainly, "…a Halloween costume."

His mother's smile widened and she looked wistfully at him, answering, "That sounds like a lot of fun."

Spock watched her as the elevator doors slid open, recalling a series of instances when his mother had acted exactly the way she was acting now—wearing a longing expression, misty-eyed and sighing all the time…she called them "nostalgia attacks".

"What do you want to be?" his mother asked him, as they stepped into the elevator.

Noting that his mother was carrying much more than he was, Spock pressed the button for the fourth floor.

"You're such a gentleman," his mother beamed.

"You are carrying more than I," Spock answered, "It would be illogical to have you press the button." He paused again, then asked, "What kind of costume does one wear on Halloween?"

His mother shrugged. "You could be a ghost," she suggested, "You know, go traditional."

"A ghost?" Spock asked, raising his eyebrows, "Why would I want to dress as the spirit of a deceased person?"

"It's scary," his mother replied, shrugging.

"What would such a costume look like?"

"You would take a sheet and cut holes in it for your eyes."

"That is scary?"

"Well, no…it's more like fun."

Spock frowned. "I am very confused."

His mother shrugged. "Okay, then you could be a cowboy."

"A cowboy?" Spock asked, frowning. "I am not sure I wish to dress as an animal-human hybrid for Halloween."

The elevator came to a halt at the fourth floor and Spock's mother laughed.

"You don't have to be a cowboy," she told him, "How about we go look at costumes after we put this food away, okay?"

"All right," Spock said, trying to force the image of a cow with skinny, humanoid legs and his face from his mind.

* * *

Two hours later.

Spock looked around at the various costumes hanging from racks in the local performing arts and theater store, discouraged and confused. He had been there for fifty two minutes now, and still hadn't found anything he wanted to wear.

_Why would anyone ever want to dress as a corpse? _he thought, faintly disgusted, staring at an outfit that included tattered clothing, bits of plastic gore, and a "Zombie Makeup Kit".

"Mother," he said, "I am not sure there is anything I want to wear here."

His mother, who was examining a costume she'd taken off one of the nearby racks, shrugged. "Well," she said, "you could always go as yourself."

"Technically that would not be wearing a costume," Spock answered.

His mother smiled. "I'm sure your friend would be entertained."

"I am sure they would, but the point is to dress as something different from one's self."

Spock's mother sighed again. "All right," she said, "But let's not make this too long of an expedition, sweetheart."

Spock nodded, turning in a circle, scanning the racks for something that would appeal to him, slowly beginning to lose hope. He and his mother had combed seemingly every inch of the store. Spock hadn't seen anything he liked, and had rejected every one of his mother's suggestions, finding it illogical to portray one's self as a petty thief (the pirate costume) unrealistic to dress as something that did not exist (the wizard costume) and simply too strange to walk around wearing a furry jumpsuit with a tail (the cat costume).

His shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch.

Perhaps he _should_ simply go as himself. It would certainly rid himself of the trouble of selecting an outfit.

Spock turned to his mother, about to give up, when he saw it.

Hanging right by the door, where no one could've seen it on the way in, was a black suit that looked to be made of some sort of odd armor—_Probably neoprene, _Spock thought, _It is, after all, just a costume—_with an odd mask with what looked to be…

_Ears, _he realized, _pointed ears._

Sure enough, protruding from the top of the mask were a pair of black, neoprene points, surely intended to be ears of some sort.

Intrigued, Spock stepped forward to get a closer look.

"Dude. Like that costume?" asked a voice.

Spock turned around to see a tall, skinny young man with a freckled face and curly red hair. He was wearing a nametag identifying him as "Bobby".

Spock nodded slightly. "It is an interesting outfit."

Bobby smiled good-naturedly, glancing briefly at Spock's ears. "Yeah," he said, looking back at the costume, "You'd make a good Batman."

"Batman?" Spock questioned, frowning.

"You haven't heard of Batman?" Bobby asked.

Spock shook his head.

Bobby shrugged. "It's a total classic, dude. You're probably too young to remember the last craze. Happened when I was about twelve. Batman started out as the hero of a comic book series way back in the 20th century. Then they made movies about it and games, and stuff. But anyways," Bobby grinned, a glint in his eye, "Batman's a superhero who defends Gotham City from bad guys."

"Gotham City?" Spock queried.

"Not a real place, but it's supposed to be like 20th century New York."

"And this…Batman, he is not employed by any branch of law enforcement?"

"Nope," Bobby shook his head, "he's his own man."

"So he is a vigilante," Spock concluded.

Bobby shrugged. "In a way," he said, "but he gets stuff done."

Spock stared at the costume. "You said he was a superhero," he said.

"Well, sort of," Bobby answered. "He doesn't have any superpowers or anything, so he uses intellect and mental strength instead."

Spock cocked his head to one side, frowning. "Why bats?" he asked, "Why does he use such theatricality?"

"Bats scare him," Bobby said, a knowing smile on his face, "He embraces his fear to control it."

Spock blinked. _Fascinating, _he thought.

"Spock?"

Spock turned to see his mother walking over to him, a hopeful look on her face.

"Found something you like?" she asked.

Spock nodded. "Yes." He turned to Bobby, who smiled.

"Would you like to try it on?" Bobby asked.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the playground.

As usual, Jim and Len were left alone at the playground as the sun descended toward the horizon in the west.

"So, what are you being for Halloween?" Len asked Jim, fishing the empty bag from breakfast that morning out of the antique car.

"Can't tell," Jim, who was sitting on the roof of the car, replied, "I'm bound by the laws of Halloween secrecy."

Len rolled his eyes.

"So, what about you?" Jim asked, curiously.

Len snorted and tossed the crumpled-up paper bag at him. "Hypocrite." He climbed up onto the hood next to Jim. "S'getting' kinda dark," he said, looking at the sunset.

"I'm gonna stick around," Jim answered, grinning, "See if any Romulans show up in the dead of night."

Len looked questioningly at his friend. "Isn't your mom back?"

Jim shook his head. "No," he answered, his smile fading. "…She had to stay off-planet 'till after Thanksgiving." He stared at his feet, his expression unreadable.

Len, not knowing what else to say, shrugged, a guilty look on his face, and said, weakly, "Well, you're always welcome at my place."

Jim's smile returned, if only just a little. "Thanks," he answered, "I'd like that."

They fell silent for awhile, and then Len hastily changed the subject.

"So…" he began, "…what did you wanna do for Halloween?"

Jim brightened. "I was thinking we'd camp out."

Len frowned. "Here?" he asked.

"No," Jim told him, a glint in his eyes, "in the cornfield."

Len raised his eyebrows. "Where the cops are camped out, trying to figure out who did it?" he asked.

"I don't think they're camped out there," Jim answered, "They've got homes to go back to at the end of the day, ya know."

Len rolled his eyes.

"We can bring the movie screen and the projector," Jim suggested, grinning and nudging Len in the ribs, "Sneak _Silence of the Lambs_ out of Hikaru's house…"

"All right, fine," Len laughed, "But only 'cause you'd just do another vote and manipulate everyone else into it."

"I dunno, we've got a couple of new guys now," Jim said, shrugging, "And Spock's less easy to convince."

"Spock doesn't know enough about old, scary Earth movies to say no," Len retorted, "and he was willing to get us into the Russian Embassy, so…there ya have it."

Jim shrugged. "Point taken."

They fell silent again, as the sun sunk into the distant hills, each boy lost in his own thoughts.

A few moments passed, and then Jim said, a slight smile on his face, quietly, "You know, Len…you don't have to stay just 'cause I'm staying. I can manage the watch alone."

Len put his hands behind his head and laid down on the windshield, looking up into the October sky, where the first stars were beginning to appear. He thought for a moment before answering.

He shrugged. "Nah," he replied, casually, "…I'll stick around."

Jim smiled, and then stuck his hands into his pockets and laid down on the windshield next to Len, searching for the outline of a constellation.

"Okay," he said, and left it at that.

* * *

Monday morning passed, for the boys, without much excitement.

Jim managed to avoid his stepfather and sneak out of the house early, meeting Len at the playground, who, predictably, had not taken much heat for being out late the night before.

Hikaru and Scotty then showed up, both of them eager to tell what they were being for Halloween, but not eager enough to spoil the surprise.

On the way to school, Pavel caught up to them, trying to figure out what he would be for Halloween and asking for suggestions.

At school, with barely five minutes to spare before the bell rang, they met Spock, who seemed rather pleased with himself, having found a costume just the day before.

In the short time before school started, they discussed the proceedings for Halloween. It was their standard procedure for a sleepover, with a few exceptions.

Len, Scotty and Hikaru would make their excuses to their parents. Jim's stepfather didn't care, and his mother was off-planet. Each boy would supply his own sleeping bag and bedroll. Both Spock and Pavel decided to tell their parents the truth about what they were doing, Pavel sure that his father, a hardened Starfleet officer, would view the event as a character-building expedition, and Spock confident that his parents would trust him to make good decisions on the outing.

Jim, as always, was in charge of dinner—somehow he had perfected the art of using his stepfather's credit card to pay for pizza without getting caught, not to mention the fact that he'd charmed the pizza delivery girl into throwing some extra sodas into the deal. Len, because of his success with the chocolate chip bagels, and to his slight dismay, was dubbed by Scotty "Magical Breakfast Man", and given the task of procuring for them the most important meal of the day. Scotty and Hikaru would bring the s'more materials.

Pavel was asked to bring a deck of cards, and Spock to bring back any information on the Earth-Vulcan negotiations he could get.

Then the bell rang, and the boys, on that note, parted.

* * *

Monday afternoon, Xena Apartment Complex, Spock's room.

"You're all done with your homework, right, sweetie?" asked Spock's mother, leaning in the doorway.

"Yes," Spock replied, as he started to punch in his father's identification code on the radio sitting in front of him, "and I have also checked and corrected my work, and reviewed the day's material."

Spock's mother smiled. "All right then," she said, "Now don't get me wrong here—you have my full trust. I'm just curious. Why are you tuning in to the Starfleet radio waves?"

Spock took a deep breath, which was part of a well-rehearsed act he'd been silently practicing all day.

"Mother, I…" he trailed off, pausing for effect. "This is highly illogical of me to say. I trust you will understand, perhaps somewhat more than father?"

She nodded. "I'm listening."

"I…I miss Vulcan." Spock felt the flush creeping up his face, as he had predicted. He _did_ sound highly illogical, after all. "I am…"

"Homesick?" his mother asked.

He nodded.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, walking over to him and giving him a hug. "It's ok to be homesick. Just remember that."

Spock nodded solemnly, and his mother smiled again, standing and starting to leave the room.

"Well," she said, as she reached the door, "I'll leave you to your own devices, then."

And she left, closing the door behind her.

Spock took a deep breath and turned the radio on.

He was immediately bombarded by an overwhelming flurry of voices speaking in all different languages.

He blinked, and quickly switched the radio off, frowning.

_It must be _all _of the Starfleet radio transmissions being sent to and from Earth, _he thought, _How illogical that they all use the same frequency. How can anyone discern any coherent transmissions?_

Then it occurred to him that the Starfleet communicators must have some method of isolating individual transmissions.

_Perhaps via tricorder? _he mused.

He thought for a moment more, and then stood and walked to his own closet, taking off one of the lower shelves his own tricorder—first given to him by his parents for a birthday gift, and then enhanced and updated with considerably more applications over the years as Spock grew more experienced with technology.

The tricorder could now perform a multitude of useful tasks, including reading the direction and strength or weakness of radio signals of a certain frequency, and mapping them based on the location of the tricorder.

Spock turned on the tricorder, punching in the Starfleet radio frequency and watching as the small screen pulled up an image of a green, flashing dot, the tricorder, and a large yellow arrow right next to it, his radio.

A cluster of weaker radio signals were depicted by several smaller yellow arrows pointing off the screen. But there was another yellow arrow, close to the same size of the arrow showing his radio.

Spock frowned. He tapped the tricorder controls, switched it to map mode, and zoomed out.

The cluster of small yellow arrows were pointing to the south, away from the town of Riverside, presumably towards the shipyard, but the large one was pointing to the west, toward the residential area that Spock knew was near the playground.

Spock stared at the screen. He couldn't imagine a Starfleet official receiving confidential transmissions at his house, meaning…

Spock stood, his mind racing.

_Someone else is listening._

If someone else was listening, they might be able to help. They might know something about the cornfield. They might know something about what had happened at the shipyard.

And then Spock realized exactly what he had to do. He walked to the door, opened it, and called, "Mother!"

His mother appeared in the hallway. "Yes?" she asked.

Spock hesitated for a moment, holding the tricorder behind his back, trying to decide whether or not to tell her exactly what he was doing.

"I…could you give me a ride to the playground?" he asked.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the playground.

As Spock stepped out of the car, his mother glanced out the window after him, frowning.

"Is anyone here?" she asked.

"They will be soon," Spock answered, readjusting the strap of the bag he was carrying that contained his tricorder.

His mother took a deep breath. "Well…all right," she said, hesitantly. "I'll see you at four-thirty, okay?"

Spock nodded. "All right."

His mother then turned on the car, did a U-turn on the small road, and drove away.

Spock took a seat by one of the antique cars in case she was watching and waited until he was sure she'd turned the corner.

He looked back over his shoulder. The car was gone.

He then pulled the tricorder out of his bag and turned it on.

The large yellow arrow depicting the other radio had grown considerably larger since his arrival.

He took a step forward toward the houses to the north of the playground.

The arrow grew by a fraction.

For reasons he could not explain, Spock felt a sudden rush of excitement in his stomach.

He took another step in the same direction. The arrow grew again.

Encouraged, he took a deep breath and started off toward the houses at a brisk pace.

* * *

For the next ten minutes, Spock wandered the streets ahead, following the arrow as it grew larger, doubling back and choosing another direction whenever it shrunk.

As he stopped at the next intersection he found, with another jolt of excitement, that the arrow had grown to nearly the size of his own radio when he had been sitting next to it in his room. He took a step to his right. The arrow grew.

He looked up at the street sign above: Noonien Avenue, and then continued walking.

He was close now. He could feel it.

He stared at the screen of the tricorder and watched intently for any fluxuation in its size. It was almost just as big as the one in his room had been.

Wherever it was, the radio had to be on this street.

Spock took another step forward, and stopped dead in his tracks as the arrow shrunk.

His heart pounding, he looked up and to his left, then his right, staring at the two houses on either side of the street. He took a step backwards, and the arrow grew.

_It could be in either house, _he thought, and took a tentative step to the right.

The arrow shrunk.

Spock immediately turned to face the house across the street. It looked attractive, he thought.

It was a medium sized, two-story house, painted a pleasant shade of light green, with light, light yellow trim, with a maroon SUV parked in the driveway and a leaf covered lawn.

_But,_ he remembered, slightly apprehensive, _Appearances can be deceptive._

He weighed the chances that a group of Romulan assassins were hiding out in the suburbs of Riverside, Iowa against the seriousness of the interplanetary situation, deciding that the chances were low and the seriousness was high, and that his expedition was worth the risk.

Still, his heart began to pound as he crossed the street and approached the house.

Even if it was highly unlikely that the house was inhabited by Romulan assassins, Spock had no idea who lived there and how they would react to his arrival.

_I have to do this, _he thought.

He stepped up to the front door and stared at the doorbell for a moment, apprehensive.

_I have to do this._

He took a deep breath, then reached forward and rang the doorbell.

_Ding-dong!_

Spock let out his breath as he heard the sound of the bell ringing loudly from inside.

There was no going back now.

He quickly stuffed the tricorder back into his bag and waited, hearing an exchange of voices from inside.

Then he heard footsteps just ahead of him.

He heard the sound of a lock clicking, and then the doorknob turned and the door swung open, revealing none other than Nyota, her dark hair in myriad braids, a sheet of paper in her hand, and a very surprised expression on her face.

* * *

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Nyota spoke. "Uh…hi," she began, hesitantly, "I didn't know you knew where I lived."

Spock did not respond immediately. His mind was racing.

Why was Nyota listening to Starfleet transmissions? How had she found the frequency number? How had she been able to access it?

"…Spock?"

Spock came back to reality to see that Nyota's expression had changed from surprised to concerned.

"Are you okay?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Why are you listening in on Starfleet transmissions?" he asked.

Nyota's eyes went wide. "But—how did you—when—" she stuttered, staring at him in shock. She then closed her mouth, took a deep breath, and said, shakily, "Why don't you come in?"

* * *

Nyota's heart was fluttering like a bird as she stepped aside, allowing Spock in and closing the door behind him.

_He knows, _she thought, _How does he know? What is he gonna do? Why is he here?_

Her train of thought was abruptly derailed as a voice called out to her right: "Ny!"

Nyota jumped and looked up to see her older sister, Etana, standing there, dressed, as usual, in too-tight clothing and holding up a set of car keys.

"Tell Mom I'm going out, okay?" she asked, crossing her long, skinny arms and sliding down the banister, her purse tucked under her arm.

Nyota glanced at Spock, nodding blankly. "Sure," she said.

Etana landed neatly next to the two kids, a bemused smirk on her face. "What, no questions? No worried protests? No warnings?" she asked, raising her thin eyebrows.

"Nuh-uh," Nyota answered, quickly, shaking her head.

Etana grinned. "I'm shocked and amazed. You're not such a bad little sister after all. See ya!"

She patted Nyota on the head and strode confidently out the door.

Nyota took another deep breath and headed into the kitchen, Spock following her, an extremely confused expression on his face.

"So…" Nyota began, hesitantly, walking around the breakfast bar and opening the refrigerator, "…do you like iced tea?"

Spock cocked his head to one side, frowning. "I have never tried it," he said.

"You've never had iced tea?" Nyota asked, surprised.

"I have had hot tea, but never iced tea," Spock told her.

"Hmm." Nyota nodded, her mind still racing wildly. _How does he know?_

* * *

Spock looked curiously at Nyota as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a pitcher of dark liquid.

_Why is she offering me tea?_ he wondered, staring at Nyota as she opened a cabinet and took out two glasses.

"Um…" he began, and Nyota looked at him, her eyes wide. Spock took a deep breath and asked, "Is it a human custom to offer tea to persons who show up on your doorstep asking…unusual…questions?"

"Uhh…" Nyota hesitated, as she opened the refrigerator door, putting away the pitcher of tea and retrieving a plastic container full of ice cubes, adding a few cubes to each glass. She gave a nervous laugh. "Sort of," she said. She pulled toward her a small, porcelain jar marked "SUGAR", beginning to scoop copious amounts of the white powder inside into each glass.

She began to stir the liquid in each glass, pushing the sugar bowl back to its spot on the counter.

"So…" she began, as the stirring spoon clanked noisily on the sides of the glass, "…How…how did you know I was listening in on…" she swallowed, "…Starfleet transmissions?"

She stopped stirring the tea and handed it to Spock.

Spock, who had been about to repeat his question, stopped. He glanced down at his tea, noticing that the sugar hadn't completely dissolved yet—it was still swirling around in the glass.

"Spock?" Nyota asked.

Spock looked up. If he told her, he would have to explain why _he_ had been listening in on Starfleet transmissions.

_I suppose I could tell her the lie I told my mother, _Spock thought, but his insides twisted at the idea. Lying to Nyota would feel somehow…wrong.

_Perhaps I should tell her the truth, _Spock thought, _I know one of her secrets—it is only logical that she knows one of mine._

"I…" he began, hesitantly, "…I was listening to Starfleet transmissions, too."

* * *

Nyota stared at Spock, a small spark of relief igniting in her stomach.

"You were?" she asked.

Spock nodded. "I did not know it was you, at first. I was able to track your radio's signal with this." He took a small, plastic device out of the bag hanging from his shoulder and showed it to Nyota.

"Is that a tricorder?" she asked.

Spock nodded again. "I went to find the source of the signal, and it turned out to be your radio." He put the tricorder away. "Why were you listening to Starfleet transmissions?"

Nyota looked nervously down at her tea, an embarrassed smile on her face. "I listen to the languages," she said, "It helps me learn them."

_So she does not know anything, _Spock thought, slightly disappointed—but only slightly.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Nyota asked, her dark eyes suddenly fearful.

Spock, snapped out of his reverie, blinked. "Of course not," he said, "Why would I tell anyone?"

Nyota shrugged. "Well…" she began, "…I'm not exactly…it's not really…I'm using somebody else's password."

Spock cocked his head to one side. "That is probably illegal," he said, informatively.

"I know," Nyota protested, "but I don't do anything but listen! Spock, please don't tell. Please?"

Spock blinked. It _was_ illegal, what Nyota was doing, but…the idea of turning her in felt wrong—exactly the way lying to her felt wrong. _This is completely illogical, _Spock thought. _I cannot do anything to make her unhappy and I do not know why…even if it is the right thing to do._

Suddenly feeling very embarrassed, he shook his head. "I will not tell anyone," he said.

Nyota smiled, letting out a breath of relief. "…Thank you," she said, seeming far more at ease than she had when she'd opened the door. "So…why were _you_ listening to Starfleet transmissions?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

Spock hesitated for a moment.

_I cannot lie to her._

_But what will the others say?_

Spock struggled to make a decision, these two thoughts battling it out in his head, as Nyota stared at him. He could feel another pale green flush creeping up his face.

Then another thought occurred to him.

_She could help us._

Spock blinked at this realization. This was true. Nyota was an expert in three languages, and she was learning four more, including Vulcan. _And_ she had access to Starfleet Communications, without having to come up with any excuses to tell her parents, like Spock did.

"Spock?" Nyota asked, a concerned expression on her face.

Spock came back to the conversation.

"You okay?" Nyota asked.

Spock nodded. "I am fine," he answered, and began to explain.

* * *

Spock told Nyota everything.

He told her everything, from how he had befriended Jim Kirk after the fight on Friday, to their escapade at the Russian Embassy on Saturday night, to his suspicions about the negotiations his father was attending.

By the time he was done, both his and Nyota's teas had warmed to room temperature. Both drinks sat untouched on the counter.

"That is why I was listening to Starfleet transmissions," Spock concluded, "And that is why I am here."

Nyota stared at him.

"Wow," she said, simply. She looked up at Spock, her dark eyes wide. "So…all this weird stuff that's been going on…might be the Romulans?"

"It is very likely," Spock answered.

"And you and Kirk and his friends are trying to…figure out what's going on?" Nyota asked.

"That is correct," Spock told her.

"And you sneaked them into the Russian Embassy to get information?" Nyota questioned.

Spock felt a slight twinge of guilt at this and flushed green. "It was necessary," he replied, "but yes. I did."

"_Wow…"_ Nyota repeated.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was Saturday afternoon. The sky was a brilliant blue, patched with white, puffy clouds and a fresh breeze that whipped through the air as the sun slowly made its way toward the horizon in the west.

It was Halloween.

Standing in her bedroom, Nyota tied back her hair and stared at her reflection, examining her costume.

_It's not bad, _she thought, _Just…old. Vintage. Think about it like that._

She adjusted her mask and her cat ears, and then picked up her limp tail—the wire holding it up had been taken out long ago by Etana, who had claimed that it poked her butt too much.

_Guess I'll just have to carry it._

Nyota felt her bare arms, uncovered by the costume's faux leather, biting her lip.

_I wonder if I should take a jacket, _she thought, _It might be cold…but then my costume'll be all covered up…or I can take one and just put it on if it's cold…or I could wear a shirt under it…but…_

She sighed, flopping down on her bed and staring up at the ceiling.

_It just wouldn't be the same._

She glanced out the window to see if Gaila, Janice and Christine had shown up yet.

_I wonder what Spock's being for Halloween? _she mused. _I wonder if he's gonna celebrate it… _Then—_oh, yeah, he's hanging out with Kirk and his friends…of course he is._

…_Maybe I'll see him._

Nyota felt a slight flush warming her face at this thought.

A snide voice in her head giggled, _Spock and Nyota sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"_

_Oh, shut up, _Nyota thought, _I just haven't talked to him in awhile…since Monday…_

She recalled their conversation just before Spock had left.

Standing at the door, Spock had turned to her, saying, "_Nyota, I trust you understand that this is extremely sensitive information."_

She had nodded to him. _"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."_

"_Thank you," _Spock had said, the slightest of smiles curving his lips. _"I…suppose I shall see you at school."_

Nyota, despite her shock at everything she'd been told, had managed a smile in return. _"Yeah," _she'd answered. _"See you."_

Spock had then walked out. Nyota waited until he'd reached the sidewalk—it was only polite, after all—before shutting the door and heading back to the kitchen to clean up.

Then the doorbell rang again.

Frowning, Nyota had headed back to the door and opened it to see Spock standing there.

"_Hey," _she said, _"did you forget something?"_

"_No, I just…um…" _he hesitated for a bit, turning faintly green, as he seemed to do when he was embarrassed, "_Thank you for the tea."_

Nyota had stared at him. _"Uh. You're welcome," _she'd replied, surprise flitting across her face.

"_I shall see you at school," _Spock had answered, and headed off.

Lying on her bed, Nyota bit her lip and got up, beginning to pace.

_Romulan assassins are here, _she thought, _And Spock's dad is in danger, meaning Spock could be in danger, heck, we could _all_ be in danger. This is just…too crazy. I should probably go to the police, but…I promised Spock I wouldn't tell._

She let out a long, worried breath.

It was dangerous, what Spock was doing. And with Kirk involved, potentially illegal, and yet…

Deep down, Nyota felt a spark of excitement growing in her, from a part of her that hungered for adventure, that wanted to be part of the secret.

_Etana is rubbing off on me, _Nyota thought, wryly.

She snuck another glance at herself in the mirror, and then decided she could go jacketless tonight.

Then the doorbell rang.

Nyota smiled and leaned out the window, looking down at three figures standing on her porch: a petite, white-blonde World War II era nurse, a green-skinned, gum-chewing rock star, and a tall, dark-blonde hippie.

_Yep, _Nyota thought, _I can definitely go jacketless tonight._

* * *

Five fifteen, 2251 Bay Road, Pavel's room.

Pavel was sitting at his desk, scrutinizing the microscopic results of the test he was running. He frowned, scratching his head and jotting down a few notes on a pad of paper next to him.

_Rates of Fast Food French Fry Decay:_

_In-and-Out French fry—one week_

_Burger King French fry—three weeks_

_McDonald's French fry—five weeks and counting. Scary._

He stood and headed over to his bed, upon which rested his too-large backpack, full of everything he needed: toothpaste, a toothbrush, a bedroll, a sleeping bag, a flashlight, extra underwear, and all the essentials: a magnifying glass and a deck of cards, a notepad and a pen, a pack of bubble gum, a comic book, a pillowcase to carry candy, and a beanie.

Everything seemed to be in order…but he was forgetting something.

Pavel frowned and crossed his arms, staring at the backpack, trying to remember what he had forgotten.

_Clothes? _he thought, _Da. Sleeping stuff? Da._

"Pavel?"

Nyanya's voice sounded nearby, interrupting Pavel's thoughts, and the old woman poked her head into his room.

"_Are you ready?"_ she asked, in Russian, _"You said you needed to meet your friends at five-thirty. It is five fifteen."_

"_Almost," _Pavel answered. _Toothpaste and toothbrush? Da._

"_Well, hurry up, boy; I have dinner for you before you leave," _Nyanya told him.

"_Nyanya," _Pavel protested, _"I will have food." Cards? Da._

"_Candy," _Nyanya corrected him. _"I told your father I would have you eat a proper dinner."_

_Science stuff? Other stuff? Da, twice. _Pavel rolled his eyes. _"Ok," _he answered. _Costume?_

Pavel froze, his blood running cold.

_Costume? _his mind repeated, like a parrot, _Costume? Costume?_

_I do not have one._

Pavel turned to the door, his expression panicked, to find that Nyanya had left.

"Nyanya!" he cried, dashing out into the hall.

Nyanya appeared at the end of the hall, her gray eyebrows raised. _"Are you all right?" _she asked.

"_I need a costume!" _Pavel screeched, his eyes wide, _"I don't have a Halloween costume!"_

Nyanya hobbled over to him, her eyebrows raised, a slight smile on her weathered face. _"All right," _she said, "_What would you like to be?"_

Pavel thought for a moment, and then announced, "_A cassock soldier!"_

Nyanya's smile faded. _"I don't think we have time to put a costume like that together."_

Pavel's shoulders slumped. _How could I forget?_ he thought.

"_Chin up, boy," _Nyanya said encouragingly, _"Let me go see what I can find. We'll find you a costume." _She ruffled his curly hair and walked past him to the hall closet, calling over her shoulder, _"Now go eat your dinner, Pavel. I'll just be a moment."_

Pavel took a deep breath and scurried back into his room, hefting his backpack onto his back and heading as quickly as he could into the kitchen.

He dropped his backpack next to his chair and took a seat, taking in the savory smell of Nyanya's famous piroshky.

Pavel could feel his panic abating slightly. Nyanya's piroshky had always been his favorite dinner—his first choice of food at the end of a long day.

He reached forward to pick up the wrap-like food. _Mushrooms and rice, _he thought, _let it be mushrooms and rice…_

"_Piroshky is not finger food!" _Nyanya called from the hallway.

Pavel stopped, frowning, and picked up a knife and fork. _Yes it is, _he thought, cutting himself a piece and beginning to devour the meal. _Huh. It'll taste delicious anyways._

A few minutes passed during which Pavel finished his dinner and drained the glass of milk Nyanya had poured for him.

He had just cleared his place when he heard Nyanya's footsteps in the hall.

"_Good news," _Nyanya called, _"I found you a costume."_

Pavel turned to face the old woman.

His expression of hope twisted instantly into a look of horror.

* * *

Xena Apartment Complex: Spock's room.

Spock stood before the mirror in his room, examining himself and his costume.

He cocked his head to one side, arching an eyebrow, scanning the black neoprene for anything out of place. Everything seemed to be in order, but he felt that something was missing. He had the suit, the cape, the boots…

…the mask.

Spock turned to face his desk, picking up the black cloth mask that went with the costume, and pulling it on over his head. He glanced at the neoprene ears on top of his head. The words of the clerk at the costume shop—Bobby, he remembered—came back to him:

"_He doesn't have any super powers or anything, so he uses his intellect and mental strength instead."_

He glanced at the clock. It was five-fifteen, almost time to leave.

The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly.

It might have been a smile.

* * *

Five twenty: the playground.

A lone figure was hiding among the junk, his eyes wary, scanning the darkening horizon.

He was in danger.

Quickly, he darted to a new hiding place behind one of the antique cars: his escape plan.

_The FBI agent can't be far off, _he thought, and then, narrating his own story, _Jim Kirk, Riverside Mafia Boss loads his Tommy gun aaaand…_

Jim grinned. _Waaaait for it, _he thought, hefting the invisible Tommy gun, _Waaaait for it…now!_

He ran to the front of the car, his inner narrator shouting: _Kirk makes his incredible getaway, speeding through the winding streets of San Francisco, shooting through a yellow light, leaving his pursuers trapped by the traffic!_

He closed his eyes, imagining the scene, grinning, and found that he couldn't help but add aloud, "So long, suckers!"

"Boo!" shouted a voice from outside the car, followed by a muffled thump, as someone slapped their hands down onto the windshield.

Jim jumped and his heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes to see a tall, lean figure lying upside-down on the windshield of the car, wearing a black mask with a skeleton face on it.

At first Jim tensed, trying to decide whether or not the newcomer was hostile. Then he recognized Len's backpack on the boy's back.

A grin spread across his face and he declared: "It's one of the undead! Drive man, drive for your life!"

He jerked the steering wheel to the left and Len pretended to slide off the car, making a screeching noise and moving out of sight.

Jim watched as Len jumped off the roof of the car and pushed the mask up onto his face.

"Scared ya, didn't I?" he asked, grinning, as Jim opened the door and stepped out of the car.

Jim snorted. "You wish," he said, looking Len up and down, examining Len's costume, which consisted of a black tee-shirt and a pair of black sweat pants, upon which were sewn the white fabric shapes of human bones: a skeleton.

"Nice costume," Jim remarked.

"Thanks," Len answered, "You too."

Jim glanced down at the blue pinstriped suit he was wearing. It was a little big, he reflected, but it looked as sharp as ever.

He fell silent for a moment, smiling.

After a moment, Len added, "By the way, ya got the wrong monster. Dangit, I'm a skeleton, not a zombie!"

Jim's smile returned and he rolled his eyes. "Tomato, to_mah_to," he said, then, "Tag! You're it!" And he tagged Len on the arm and took off like a shot.

Len sighed and gave chase, shouting at the top of his lungs despite his self-declared status as a skeleton: "BRAAAAAAAINS!"

And the sun inched toward the horizon…

* * *

Five twenty-five.

Two figures were approaching the playground—one from Derby Drive, dressed in rags and carrying a bandanna on a stick, and the other from the neighborhood beyond Farmer Barrett's cornfield, in an aviator's hat and scarf, green-gray painted smeared across his face, a wooden Japanese katana in his hand.

One of them was thinking: _Why is it always haggis? I _hate _haggis! Jim had better have pizza._

And the other, simply: _BRAAAAAINS!_

* * *

Hikaru got to the playground first, to find Jim and Len engaged in a game of tag. He waved as Jim ran by, dressed as a 1930s gangster, pursued by Len in a skeleton costume.

Len stopped as he caught sight of Hikaru's costume and pushed his mask up onto his head.

"What are _you_?" he asked.

"What?" Hikaru looked himself over. "I'm a pilot-zombie-ninja-samurai."

* * *

Scotty arrived about a minute later and headed over to Hikaru who was watching Jim and Len chase each other through the piles of junk.

"Nice costume," Hikaru told him, grinning.

Scotty held up a tin can and rattled it, clinking the old coins inside.

"Coins for pizza?" he asked, grinning. "Me mum tried tae make me eat dinner before I left. Haggis, _again."_

Hikaru pretended to throw up in his mouth.

Scotty laughed.

* * *

Pavel could hear the boys' laughter as he walked around Farmer Barrett's cornfield, his stomach twisting with dread.

He glanced down at his costume, at the old, worn, fleecy orange stripes, at the limp tail he was carrying in one hand. He reached up and felt the large, triangular ears on top of his head.

_Lucky I got away before Nyanya decided to put facepaint on me, _he thought, cringing. _As if this wasn't bad enough…what will I tell them?_

He bit his lip, readjusting his enormous backpack.

_Why do I have to be so small? _he thought, _Even when I dress up as something else I have to be small and timid._

Something floated to the front of Pavel's mind, a vague memory of something his mother had told him once.

It had been at one of his father's Starfleet events, and Pavel had been very young—five or six. Two girls—both his age, both much taller than him, had been teasing him. He had gone and hid beneath one of the buffet tables.

His mother had found him, had asked him what was wrong.

He had answered her, saying miserably, "_Anna and Tatyana are teasing me!"_

His mother had given him a kind smile, and, to his great surprise, crawled under the table and sat down next to him.

"_About what?" _she asked.

"_They say I'm small," _Pavel answered, hugging his knees to his chest.

His mother nodded. _"Tell me more."_

"_They say I'm little and scared of everything! But I'm not! I'm not scared of mice! Or lizards!" _he protested, _"I wish would just stop."_

His mother smiled again. _"You know," _she told him, _"I was teased when I was your age, too."_

Pavel had looked curiously at her. _"People teased you?" _he asked her, wide-eyed.

She had nodded sagely. _"Oh, yes. I used to be taller than everyone I knew. And clumsier, too."_

Pavel marveled at this, unable to fathom that his beautiful, graceful mother had once been awkward and clumsy in the eyes of her peers.

"_Do you know what I did?" _she asked him.

Pavel shook his head.

"_I _pretended _I was little and graceful," _she said, _"I pretended I was a swan, gliding across the schoolyard. And after awhile, the teasing didn't bother me anymore."_

Pavel thought about this. _"So I just have to pretend I'm not small and scared?"_

His mother nodded. _"Tell yourself that you're big and fierce. You are scary. You are a vicious tiger."_

A smile had spread across Pavel's face. He had nodded and given his mother a hug, thanking her for the advice, and then gotten up from under the table, baring his fangs at all who dared to call him little and scared.

* * *

Pavel could see the playground now, where Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty were playing tag. He took a deep breath.

_You are a vicious tiger, _he told himself, and walked over toward them.

"Hey, Pavel!" Hikaru said, amiably as Pavel approached. Then, upon getting a look at Pavel's costume, he asked, "Are you dressed as a kitty?"

"Wait—_what?" _demanded Len, skidding to a halt as he ran past.

Jim, who had been only a few feet behind Len, ran smack into him, knocking both of them over. "Ow! _Len!"_ he said, irritably.

Pavel took off his backpack, crossed his arms and said, defensively, "I am _not_ a kitty cat! I am a vicious tiger! Grrrrrrowrrrrl."

The other boys stared blankly at him.

"What was _that?" _Scotty asked, frowning.

"What?" Pavel demanded, "That ees what tigers say!"

"Nuh-uh," Len shook his head, picking himself up off the ground.

Pavel pouted. "Well that is what tigers say in _Russia."_

Jim shrugged as he got up, dusting himself off. "Works for me," he told Pavel, grinning. "You guys up for some pizza?"

Pavel nodded along with the others, relieved at the change of topic.

_I am a vicious tiger, _he thought, smiling.

* * *

Just as Jim mentioned pizza, the sound of an approaching car came from the corner around Derby Drive.

Jim glanced over, his grin widening, as he saw Spock's car turn the corner.

"Guys!" he said, excitedly, "Guys! Quick! Hide!"

"What?" Len asked, frowning.

"It's Spock! Hide!" Jim repeated, "Quick!"

Anticipating grins appeared on the boys' faces as they scrambled to find good hiding spots before Spock arrived.

Jim got into the antique car and hid behind the passenger's seat while Len crawled beneath it, pulling his mask over his face. Pavel jumped into the bathtub, flattening his ears against his head in order to keep hidden. Hikaru flattened himself on the ground behind a pile of old rags, and Scotty camouflaged himself against one of the other antique cars, (which had been recently made into a junk-fort), pulling a hat over his head and standing as still as possible.

Though none of them dared to look, all of them heard the sounds of the car pulling up, the car door opening, and someone stepping out to see who was there.

* * *

"Remember, don't go into anyone's house if you don't know them."

"Yes, Mother."

"Or anyone's car."

"Yes, Mother."

"Or eat anything that seems like it might have chocolate in it."

"Yes, Mother."

"Even if it doesn't look like it."

"Yes, Mother."

Spock fingered the strap on his backpack as the car pulled up to the playground, his mask clutched in one hand, his eyes sweeping the apparently empty junkyard. He raised an eyebrow.

_Curious, _he thought.

His mother frowned as she too scanned the playground. "Are we early?" she asked, checking the time.

"No," Spock replied, "We are thirty seconds late."

"Then where are they?" A worried look crossed his mother's face.

"Spock, I don't see them anywhere…you're quiet sure these boys haven't…ditched you?"

"I am sure," Spock told her. "They have not, as you say, 'ditched me', Mother. They are concealing themselves."

Spock's mother blinked. "Concealing themselves?" she repeated.

"Yes," Spock answered. "Scotty is camouflaged against that vehicle there." He pointed out the car in question. "Hikaru is behind that pile of rags." He gestured to the spot. "Pavel is most likely in the bathtub, as I can see Len beneath the other vehicle, and Jim is very likely inside the other vehicle, that being his favorite place to hide."

Spock's mother smiled. "You've got your father's eyes," she told him, ruffling his hair. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Remember, no chocolate."

Spock nodded and got out of the car, his backpack and mask in hand, surveying the playground and the hidden boys.

His mother waved as she made a U-turn and started back up Derby Drive, soon turning around the corner and out of sight.

Spock took another look at each of his friends' hiding spots before walking over to an ancient, rusting motorcycle and crouching down behind it, listening, watching and waiting…

…And the sun finally sank below the trees.

* * *

From his place before the passenger's seat, Jim frowned. He couldn't hear any footsteps. Spock wasn't moving.

Slowly, he risked a glance over the edge of the seat.

Through the grimy, rear window he caught sight of Spock, dressed in some kind of black body suit, crouched behind a rusty motorcycle.

Jim sunk below the edge of the seat. _What is he doing? _he thought, _Dangit, Spock, move! Or else I'll hafta get out and show myself so we can eat already._

From their respective hiding spots, Hikaru, Scotty, Pavel and Len were thinking along the same lines, but none of them dared to look up and risk being seen.

Several long minutes passed, until Len could stand it no more.

"Spock!" he called from under the car, "What are you doing?"

"I am also concealing myself," Spock replied.

From his place behind the pile of rags, Hikaru frowned. "You mean, you can see all of us?" he asked.

"Yes," Spock answered, "May I inquire as to what game we are playing?"

A collective groan rose from the boys as they got up from their hiding places and walked out to meet Spock, who stood up behind the motorcycle, a curious, polite look on his face.

"How were you able to see us?" Len asked.

The corners of Spock's mouth twitched. "Logic," he began. "Jim always hides in the antique car, and Len under it. As Pavel is the smallest, it is logical that he would hide in the bathtub. The only hiding place left was behind the pile of rags, where Hikaru was."

"What about Scotty?" Jim asked.

"Scotty I could see," Spock replied.

* * *

The next half hour passed with the boys seated around their campfire, eating pizza and drinking the free sodas from Jim's pizza girl.

At around six o'clock, after having eaten copious amounts of cheesy, marinara goodness and made numerous jokes about one another's costumes, the boys stood and started off toward the residential neighborhood, grins on their faces and bags in hand. Candy awaited.

* * *

Six twenty: Bay Road.

Nyota shivered in the evening breeze as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

_I _knew _I should've brought a jacket, _she thought, crossing her arms and jumping up and down, her black candy bag bouncing up and down with her.

The girls had been out trick or treating for about twenty minutes, and already their candy bags were beginning to bulge with loot.

" '_Oh my goodness, what cute costumes you're all wearing!'"_ came a sarcastic voice behind her, mimicking the old lady they'd just visited.

Nyota turned to see Gaila standing there, her hands clasped before her, her straightened hair tucked back behind her ears.

Nyota giggled. She turned to Janice and Christine, both of whom were rolling their eyes as they approached.

"She _was_ funny," Nyota said, her teeth chattering in the cool night air.

"Yeah, talk about over-enthusiasm," Janice commented, grinning.

"C'mon, gals, we need more candy!" Gaila exclaimed.

Nyota smiled and followed Gaila, who had started off toward the next house. _I wonder if Spock's out trick-or-treating, _she thought. Then—_Well…he _is_ hanging out with Jim Kirk, so I suppose he must be…_

Her thoughts were cut off midstream as she heard a boy's voice coming from around the next corner.

"This mask is _evil!" _it was saying in frustration, "I can't get it off!"

A second boy's voice sounded: "Well, why'd ya tie it so tight? Here. Lemme see."

Nyota frowned. _Those voices, _she thought…_both of them sound really familiar. In fact, that sounds just like—_

But Nyota didn't get to finish her thought, because at that moment a small group of costumed boys came walking around the corner, headed by none other than Leonard McCoy, who was tearing a black-and-white skeleton mask off his face, and Jim Kirk.

* * *

Both groups stopped in their tracks, as if making a first encounter with a new species of alien life.

A half-second past, and then, from the girls' side, Christine piped up: "Hi, Leonard!"

Nyota winced as Len flushed scarlet, and she sent him an apologetic look.

"Hi, Christine," Len muttered, avoiding the little girl's gaze.

"Hello, Nyota," came a familiar voice from the back of the group.

Nyota frowned, looking at the boy who had spoken. He was tall, and wearing a suit of black body armor, along with a mask with two very pointed ears at the top.

"Spock?" Nyota asked.

The boy took off his mask, revealing his pointed ears, slanted eyebrows, and bowl haircut. Spock nodded.

A beat passed between them in awkward silence, and then they both said at the same time, "Nice costume."

Nyota felt her face grow warm in the cool night air, and noticed that Spock had turned faintly green. She could feel all of her friends' eyes on her.

"Um. Well. I guess I'll see you at school, then," she said, awkwardly.

Spock nodded to her. "It was nice seeing you."

Nyota flushed even more. "You too," she replied, smiling with embarrassment.

With that said, the two groups began to move past one another.

As they did, Nyota caught Spock's eye, noticing that the corners of his mouth had quirked up a fraction. She could've sworn it was a smile.

* * *

"Toothpaste," Jim said, flatly, staring into the bag as soon as the door swung shut. "Seriously?"

He stepped away from the door toward his friends, most of whom were staring into their own bags with dismay. (Len was trying to get his mask off, and Pavel was adjusting his cat ears.)

"It's a dark plot, this," Scotty said, gravely, "The adults are tryin' tae give us _healthy_ stuff."

"Not even food," Hikaru added, mournfully, "I'd settle for _carrot sticks_ over this."

"Celery," added Jim.

"It seems to me that toothpaste would be a logical addition to eth candy we have received," Spock remarked, then blinked in surprise as five tubes of toothpaste bounced off his head. "…Fascinating."

The boys started off toward the next house.

"Crap," Len muttered. "Dangit, this mask is _evil_! I can't get it off!"

"Well, why'd ya tie it so tight?" Jim asked, reaching for the ribbon that had been used to tie it. "Here, lemme see."

Both boys yanked up on the ribbon, hard, and managed to get it off Len's head, just as they turned the corner to come face to face with Nyota and her friends.

* * *

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Christine, with a huge smile on her face, squeaked, "Hi, Leonard!"

Len, now wishing he'd kept his mask on, went scarlet. "Hi, Christine," he muttered, staring at his feet.

Spock, noticing Nyota at the back of the group of girls, spoke up: "Hello, Nyota," he said.

_She appears to be cold, _he thought, noticing her bare arms. _I wonder why she decided not to take a jacket?_

Nyota blinked at him. "Spock?" she asked, frowning slightly.

_My mask, _Spock realized. He took the mask off, blushing pale green. _Why does this always happen?_

A moment passed before Spock could think of anything to say.

Then inspiration struck, and he spoke, at the same time as Nyota: "Nice costume."

Nyota glanced at her feet, fingering her limp cat tail. "Um. Well. I guess I'll see you at school then," she said.

Spock nodded, feeling his face grow warm again. "It was nice seeing you," he said.

The two groups began to move past each other in awkward silence, Spock and Nyota looking anywhere but at each other as they did so.

Spock could have sworn that Nyota was smiling.

* * *

As the boys moved out of the girls' earshot, Jim glanced over at Len, who still looked as if he'd been forced up to dress up in a monkey suit and do the chicken dance in front of a thousand people.

"Way to go, Leonard," Jim said, grinning.

"Shut up," Len muttered.

"Oooooh, _Leonard!"_ Hikaru piped up in an imitation of Christine, "you're _soooooo_ cute!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, would ya stop callin' me that?" Len demanded in exasperation.

"Well, it's your name, Len!" Jim replied, laughing slightly. "What do you _want_ to be called? _Bones?"_ He gestured to Len's skeleton costume.

"You can call me whatever the heck you want," Len grumbled. "Anything's better than _Leonard."_

Jim's grin widened. "Okay, Bones," he answered.

Len sighed heavily and glared up at the sky, where the first stars had appeared. Somehow he had the nasty feeling he was going to have to put up with his new nickname for a long time to come.

* * *

The boys spent another two hours trick-or-treating before returning, with growling stomachs and bulging candy bags, to the playground, and taking their seats around the embers of their "campfire", attempting to build it up again.

Spock traded away all of the chocolate items he'd received for various other candies, most of which he decided to save for later.

At around the o' clock, having eaten their fill of candy, the boys broke out the s'more materials and set up their bedrolls and sleeping bags, settling in for a long—and memorable—night.

"So," Jim said, as he pulled his flaming marshmallow out of the embers of the campfire, "Who wants to hear a ghost story?"

"I do!" Scotty shrieked excitedly, bouncing up and down where he sat.

"Whoooot!" shouted Hikaru, punching the air.

Len rolled his eyes. "Just as long as there's no stupid chupacabras in it," he said.

"Whatever you say, _Bones,"_ Jim answered, grinning.

Spock frowned. "What is a 'ghost story'?" he asked.

All eyes turned to Spock.

"You don't know what a ghost story is?" Hikaru asked, wide-eyed.

"Heck, even _Pavel_ knows what a ghost story is," Len said, gesturing to Pavel, who was chewing on a peanut butter cup.

Pavel swallowed his bite. "Well…in Russia we call them something else, but—"

"But ye know what it means, aye?" Scotty asked.

Pavel nodded.

"Ahem," Jim spoke up, and everyone fell silent. Jim turned his attention to Spock. "Anyways," he said, "a ghost story is just a scary story about a ghost. Or something. Doesn't have to be a ghost."

"Oh," Spock said. _"Fascinating._ I have never heard of such a thing before."

"You don't have scary stories on Vulcan?" Len asked, frowning, "Jeez, whaddaya do for entertainment?"

Spock shrugged. "Intellectually stimulating activities," he replied.

"Being scared out of your mind doesn't count as intellectually stimulating?" Len raised his eyebrows.

"It falls under the category of 'interesting and not necessarily useful'," Spock said.

"_Anyways!"_ Jim interrupted, and all eyes fell on him. He grinned a maniacal grin and began: "This, my friends, is the freakish tale…of the Hooked Hand."

"Oh jeez," Hikaru whispered, his eyes wide with horrified anticipation.

Scotty crawled into his sleeping bag and peeked out from between his fingers.

Len smiled and sat back to enjoy another toasty brown marshmallow.

Pavel propped his chin up on his hands, leaning forward to listen.

Spock, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and repeated, "the Hooked Hand?"

"Ya know, it's more fun if you don't repeat everything Jim says," Len told him, flatly.

"It is a fascinating title," Spock answered.

Jim smiled spookily and started to tell the story:

"Once upon a time, in a small town in the Midwest, almost just like Riverside, there were six teenage boys."

A cool breeze swept through the air, and the boys crowded close around the fire.

"It was Halloween night," Jim said, "and the boys decided to go out for a midnight ride. They took the oldest boy's car, because it was the only one that could fit all of them and look cool at the same time…not knowing that the car…was almost out of gas."

Hikaru, Pavel, Scotty and Len all exchanged nervous, excited looks, and Spock continued to listen intently.

"On a dare, they decided to drive by the old haunted shipyard," Jim continued. "It was reeeeeal spooky there. Completely abandoned. Everybody said it was haunted 'cause twenty years ago, one of the lieutenants went crazy, screaming to anyone who would listen about a rotting corpse with a hooked hand. He died five days after he went to the loony bin."

Spock frowned at the unfamiliar phrase. "What is—" he began, but the others shushed him.

"It's an insane asylum," Jim explained, "But anyways." His eyes grew bright in the firelight as he leaned forward. "The boys were all in a good mood. There wasn't any stupid curse on the shipyard, they said, everybody else was just scared and superstitious." Jim paused to take a bite of marshmallow.

"And then what happened?" asked Pavel.

The fire cast an eerie, flickering shadow on Jim's face and he said: "And then…the car ran out of gas."

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as Jim continued:

"At first, none of them were worried. People used the road next to the shipyard all the time. They could hitch a ride into town the next day and get gas then…but soon everything changed, because barely a second after the oldest boy suggested this…a high, screechy sound like a knife scratching on metal came from outside the car."

"Tell me when it's over!" Scotty yelped, covering his ears, but only partly.

Jim grinned, munching on another marshmallow, then swallowing and continuing:

"All of the boys looked at one another. 'Someone should go see what it is,' said one of them. 'Yeah,' said another. But none of them wanted to go. So they drew straws. The youngest boy got the short straw." Jim's eyes were bright and wide as he said, "Slowly, shaking, armed with only a rolled up magazine, the boy opened the car door and stepped outside, and—"

Jim suddenly broke off midsentence and looked out toward the cornfield, his expression no longer anticipating but serious. Almost worried.

"Did you guys hear that?" he asked.

"Jeez, Jim, this is scary enough!" Hikaru protested.

"I'm serious!" Jim said, wide-eyed, "I swear I heard something!"

"Come on, Jim, it's not funny," Len said, sharply.

"You guys, I'm not kidding! I—" Jim broke off again, staring off at the cornfield.

Spock frowned. He might have imagined it, but he could've sworn he had heard something as well.

"You heard it too!" Jim exclaimed, pointing at Spock.

Spock nodded. "A slight rustling noise," he said, "As if someone were moving through the corn."

Jim's eyes were wider than ever. "Guys…" he began, "…it might be the Romulans."

"Stop it, Jim!" Len shouted, "Dangit, it's not funny!"

Jim stood up. "I'm going to check it out," he said, immediately, "Anybody got a flashlight?"

"Ye can't jes' go out there alone!" Scotty protested, a panicked look on his face.

"Jim, I agree; it is too dangerous to go by yourself," Spock said, standing up.

"I have a flashlight," Pavel spoke up, and began digging through his enormous backpack.

"Look," Jim told him, "I'm going out there no matter what."

"Then I will come with you," Spock answered.

Len stood up. "You guys aren't seriously thinking about going out there, are you?" he demanded.

"I _heard_ something," Jim repeated, his eyes meeting Len's.

"Well then going out there is the number one way to get yourself killed," Len answered.

The two boys glared at each other, and a tense silence fell.

Finally, Jim spoke. "Pavel," he said, "flashlight."

Pavel nodded and wordlessly handed Jim the flashlight, and Jim turned and started for the cornfield, Spock and Pavel on his heels.

Hikaru and Scotty exchanged glances and stood up, snatching their own flashlights from their backpacks and running to catch up.

Len, knowing he would never forgive himself if he stayed behind, threw his hands up in frustration and followed.

* * *

Upon reaching the cornfield, Jim stopped and spoke, quietly, without turning around: "Right. Two groups. Spock, Pavel, you're with me. Len, Hikaru, Scotty, you're together. Go clockwise around each ring and we'll go counterclockwise. Meet on the far side."

Then he took a deep breath…and walked into the corn.

The boys emerged from the corn and entered the first ring of the crop circle in silence.

As the two groups started to move off in separate directions, Jim glanced back, making eye contact with Len. He nodded once.

Len, grudgingly, nodded back.

The groups clicked on their flashlights…and disappeared from one another's view.

* * *

Jim, Pavel and Spock took soft steps along the outer ring, squinting into the darkness beyond the range of their flashlights, straining to hear any unusual noises, staying close to the center of the path. Every few seconds they would glance to the right and left at the walls of corn. They moved in silence.

And overhead, a passing cloud blotted out the stars.

* * *

"So…" Scotty whispered, looking with large eyes between Len and Hikaru, "…Jim's story. How d'ye think it ends?"

"Ends?" Hikaru asked, softly. "I don't know…I hope they escape…"

"I heard another version where it's a boy an' a girl, an' they go down by a swamp tae make out," Scotty answered as he shined his flashlight ahead, glancing to his left, "an' they hear stuff, so they leave, and when they get back home they find a hook attached tae the back of the car."

"Yeah," Hikaru whispered, "but this is Jim's version."

"But did Jim get it from somewhere else?" Scotty asked.

"_I_ know how it ends," Len said, darkly.

Wide-eyed, Hikaru and Scotty stared at Len.

"How d'ye know that?" Scotty whispered.

"Because it was my dad's story," Len replied, staring expressionlessly ahead. "He was the one who first told it to us."

Hikaru and Scotty exchanged knowing glances.

"…How does it end?" Hikaru asked.

Len glared at the darkness ahead. "The cops find the car in the shipyard. Empty. There's a hooked hand sitting on the back, stuck in."

Scotty's mouth gaped open. "What about the boys?" he asked.

"The boys are never seen or heard from again," Len said. "Come on. I think we're almost at the end."

Just as Len finished his sentence, all three of the boys froze in their tracks, at the sound of something behind them rustling in the corn.

Slowly, they turned to the source of the noise, pointing their flashlights at the wall of corn.

They exchanged glances, pale-faced, wide-eyed, all of them silently waiting for someone to pluck up the courage to go look.

Finally, Hikaru, pale-faced and shaking, took a tentative step forward, peering between the stalks of corn.

"What is it?" Len whispered, "What do you see?"

Hikaru squinted through the dense stalks. He blinked. "…Nothing," he said. "It's nothing. Probably just an animal."

Both Len and Scotty breathed sighs of relief.

Scotty could feel the lump of fear in his stomach melting away. He took a step backward, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"That's a relief, lads," he said, a weary smile starting to spread across his face.

Then he felt a vicelike grip on his wrist, and a huge, pale hand closed over his mouth.

* * *

Spock frowned as he, Jim and Pavel stepped silently past the rows of corn.

_We have gone too far, _he thought. "Jim," he said, "We have moved over fifty percent of the circumference of the crop circle."

"I'm not going to stop until we meet the others," Jim answered.

Spock nodded once, in agreement. "Perhaps they have found something."

* * *

Scotty grasped at the hand covering his mouth, struggling in its grip. He tried to scream, but couldn't.

Len and Hikaru didn't know what was going on. They still had their backs to him.

The pale hand was pressed tight over Scotty's mouth and nose. He couldn't breathe.

Panic began to bubble in his stomach as his lungs started to burn. In desperation, he opened his mouth and bit down on the pale hand, hard.

Though the grip on his wrist tightened tenfold, the pale hand covering Scotty's mouth pulled away, spurting blood.

Scotty took his chance and screamed.

* * *

Upon hearing the scream, Jim instantly broke into a run, Spock and Pavel close on his heels.

Almost immediately they found the others: Len and Hikaru standing petrified before Scotty, who was the captive of a tall, menacing figure with bare, pale arms.

Spock and Pavel stopped in their tracks, but Jim kept going, sprinting forward, and lunging at the attacker.

* * *

Len and Hikaru turned almost immediately upon hearing Scotty's scream, to find their friend struggling against the grip of a huge, pale, muscle-bound man, one of whose huge hands was flailing about, gushing blood.

The two boys froze, unable to move, unable to think.

And a second later, Jim came running from out of nowhere and tackled the man from behind, punching him over and over in the head as hard as he could.

* * *

This broke the spell on Len and Hikaru, and Len reached down and picked up a baseball-sized chunk of dirt, hurling it at the man, shouting, "HEY!"

Hikaru, Pavel and Spock started to do the same, picking up dirt clods and throwing them at the man, all yelling.

One of the dirt clods hit the man on the arm…where his skin began to blister.

The huge man's eyes widened as he saw this, just as another dirt clod landed on his arm an inch higher, spraying more dirt onto his bubbling skin. Blood started to trickle from the wound down his arm.

Panic in his eyes, the man let go of Scotty, shoved Jim off his back like a rag doll, and fled under a hail of dirt clods, disappearing into the darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Scotty collapsed against the wall of corn, shaking so hard he could barely talk: "Did—d-did you guys—see that?" he gasped.

"The guy's arm just started bleeding!" Hikaru yelped.

"It was the dirt," Len said, staring at the dirt clod in his hand and letting it drop to the ground in horrified disgust. "The dirt _melted_ his skin." He looked around at the others. "Does anybody else feel like taking a shower?"

"Fascinating," Spock mused.

"It didn't melt us," Pavel interrupted.

"Then it must have been the guy," Len answered, "Something must have been up with him. Jim, whadda you think?"

No answer.

"Jim?"

"Over here."

Len, Spock, Scotty, Hikaru and Pavel turned to see Jim about twenty feet away, crouched before something on the ground in front of him.

"Guys," he said, gravely, "C'mere."

The others walked over to him to find that he was crouching in front of a small pool of blood, bubbling in the dirt, shrinking. Green blood.

Jim looked up at the others. "He was Vulcan," he said. "The guy was a Vulcan."

"That's impossible," Len answered, shaking his head, "The only Vulcans in Riverside are Spock and his dad."

"But who else has green blood?" Jim asked. He looked over at Spock, whose expression was serious.

"Romulans do," Spock answered.

* * *

The rest of Halloween night was spent hidden in the antique cars, tense and vigilant. At all times someone was awake, keeping watch in case the pale man returned…but he never did.

The candy, campfire, and marshmallows lay on the ground, forgotten.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned cold and gray, and Spock awoke from an hour's worth of fitful sleep feeling stiff and fog-headed, feeling half in a dream, half out.

He glanced to his left where Jim was sitting on the driver's seat, his knees tucked to his chest, his eyes wide, and a flickering flashlight in one hand. He was staring out the window intently.

"You took two watches," Spock said, looking at Jim's gaunt, tired face.

Jim shrugged. "Scotty needed the sleep," he answered, glancing over his shoulder at Scotty in the back seat, who was snoring loudly. "He was pretty rattled. And I wasn't going to be able to sleep anyways." He took a deep breath. "Well…it's morning."

Spock watched as Jim opened the car door and got out, and then followed.

Behind them in the passenger's seat, Scotty jerked awake and quickly sat up before scrambling out of the car and into the cold air.

From the other antique car emerged Len, Hikaru and Pavel, all looking as if they hadn't slept for a minute.

In silence, the boys walked over to the pile of ashes that had been their campfire and sat down.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, all of them waiting for someone to speak.

Then, they all started talking at once.

"Holy crap."

"Did that really happen?"

"I didn't sleep all night!"

"Heck, I'm never gonna sleep _again."_

"That guy was huge!"

"Guys—" Jim began.

"That was the scariest thing that's ever happened tae me."

"Guys—" Jim tried to speak up.

"What are we going to do?"

"Guys!"

Everyone fell silent as Jim's voice rose to a shout, giving him their attention.

Jim looked around the group.

"We have to be able to defend ourselves," he said, "in case that Romulan guy comes back."

Around the circle, there were nods and murmurs of assent.

"The dirt made his skin melt," Pavel spoke up.

"And his blood," Scotty added.

"How the heck did that happen, by the way?" Hikaru asked, looking uncomfortably at the ground, "it didn't do anything to us."

"There must be a compound in the soil that is harmful specifically to Romulans," Spock said, thoughtfully, "contrary to the Romulan genetic makeup."

"It's an allergic reaction," Len said, "You know, like hives. Remember when that second-grader Kevin Riley had hives? Got stung by a bee and his face swelled up and he almost died?"

"Oh, yeah," Hikaru answered, nodding, remembering the occasion.

"Like that, but worse."

"Scotty, you think you could make a gun that shoots dirt?" Jim asked.

Scotty, who was rubbing his bruised wrist, looked up.

"Ye mean like a spud-launcher type thing?" he asked, a slight smile spreading across his face. "Aye, I could do that."

Jim nodded. "Good," he said, "Now that that's settled…" He turned to Spock. "…I forgot to ask. Did you figure out when the Earth-Vulcan negotiations are?"

Spock's eyes widened in surprise. In the Halloween rush, he had completely forgotten to tell his friends about what had happened on Monday—his access to Starfleet transmissions, his encounter with Nyota…

He hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No," he said, "I used my father's access code for the Starfleet radio transmissions, but I was unable to find any information regarding the negotiations."

"Hmm." Jim nodded, thinking. "Okay," he said. "Keep looking." He looked around the group. "Other than that, there's not much else we can do. We can't tell the grown ups about what happened last night, 'cause they wouldn't believe us, and if they did, they wouldn't let us out anymore."

Spock spoke up again. "I have an idea."

Jim looked over at him. "Go ahead," he said.

"I believe we should ask Nyota and her friends to help us," Spock announced.

There was a long silence.

Jim stared at Spock. He blinked.

"You want to…bring Nyota and the girls into this," he repeated.

Spock nodded.

"...Okay…" Jim began, exchanging baffled looks with the other boys, "…why?"

"I believe that she would provide a valuable addition to our range of abilities," Spock explained, "the negotiations between Earth and Vulcan are sure to be a multinational event, and Starfleet has installations all over the planet. Nyota speaks Swahili, Russian and English fluently already, and she is learning to speak Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, and French. She could easily help us to find information about the negotiations, using my father's access code to Starfleet radio transmissions."

Jim blinked at him. "And how do you know she'd be willing to help?"

Spock shrugged. "Well, she seemed fascinated by our investigation when I spoke to her about it on Monday."

"Wait, WHAT?" Hikaru yelped.

"Holy crap, Spock, ye _told_ her?" Scotty demanded.

"Why?" Hikaru screeched.

Spock looked curiously at his friends. "I do not understand," he said, confused. "We had agreed not to tell any adults about our activities. Nyota is a fellow student, and I believe she is worthy of trust."

Hikaru slapped a hand to his forehead. "Spock," he groaned, "they're _girls_. We're _boys_. They do their thing, we do ours! We don't work together!"

Spock cocked his head to one side. "Why?" he asked.

"Because girls and boys are so different!" Scotty said in exasperation. "Look, if ye'd ever seen girls and boys try tae play on the playground, ye'd know it always ends in disaster. It jes' wouldn't work."

"Not even if Nyota can help us?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Guys," Jim interrupted, "What's done is done." He turned to Spock. "Spock, I sure hope you're right about Nyota. But just because she knows doesn't mean she's in."

Len looked between Spock and Jim, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Actually, Jim," he began, "for once I agree with the pointy-eared hobgoblin."

Jim turned to Len in surprise, but said nothing.

Len pushed on: "Nyota's smart. I mean, really smart. Somebody who knows that many languages has gotta be pretty intelligent." He looked around the group at Hikaru and Scotty, adding, "And her friends can help us too. I mean, you guys all know Gaila. She's the bravest girl I've ever seen. She'd be all in. And Janice—I doubt I've met anyone more organized."

Jim gave Len a skeptical look. "What about _Christine?_" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Len opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say besides, "Um…"

"Christine, besides having connections to Starfleet because of her mother, has an unparalleled ability to appear sweet, vulnerable and innocent," Spock spoke up, "making her a perfect distraction in any given situation."

All eyes turned to Jim.

Jim stared at Len and Spock. _I think I just got overruled, _he thought. _Well…guess there's only one way to go, then._

"All right," he said, "You guys win—we'll include the girls. But—" A slight smile spread across his face, "—_you two_ have to talk to them."

* * *

Thursday, lunchtime, Riverside Elementary School.

"How the _heck_ did I get myself roped into _this?"_ Len demanded of himself, horrorstruck.

"Well, you began by agreeing with me," Spock replied.

"Yeah, I _know,"_ Len answered, shooting Spock an irritated look, "and I'm starting to wish I hadn't."

The two boys stood at the edge of the school playground, watching Nyota and her friends at the tetherball courts.

So far they had been unable to approach the girls to talk to them. On Monday, there had been too many people around. On Tuesday, the girls had gone to help put up posters in the library. On Wednesday, they were engaged in a jump rope tournament for all of lunch.

Finally, on Thursday morning, Jim had told Len and Spock that if they were going to ask the girls for their help, they needed to hurry up and get it done, or else the whole deal was off.

Spock had thrown back a hardball of his own, proposing that he set up a meeting with the girls on Saturday afternoon at the playground, to discuss their next course of action.

Jim had agreed.

Now, Len could feel the others' grins on his back as he contemplated having to talk to Christine—again.

Spock raised his eyebrows at Len. "Well," he began, "are we going to go?"

Len huffed an irritable sigh. "Fine," he muttered.

The two started off across the blacktop.

* * *

"Hey, Ny!"

Nyota caught the tetherball in mid-swing as Gaila spoke up, pointing out across the blacktop to where two boys were approaching.

The girls crowded together.

"I think it's Spock and Len," Gaila said.

"Really?" Christine gasped, ecstatically, "I'm not even hurt!"

"Len never comes here just out of the blue," Janice said, shooting a knowing glance at Gaila.

"But I bet _Spock_ would," Gaila teased, giving Nyota a playful poke in the shoulder.

Nyota rolled her eyes, laughing. "Okay, gals, let's just see what they want."

"You know you and Spock were dressed up as the two characters in Batman who hook up, right?" Gaila whispered.

"Gai-_la!"_ Nyota protested, feeling a flush flood her face.

"Go _talk_ to him!" Gaila said, pushing Nyota forward.

* * *

Spock and Len reached the girls' tetherball court just as Nyota, having been pushed by Gaila, stumbled forward a few steps to meet them.

"Hi," Nyota said, looking flustered.

"Hello," Spock replied.

Silence fell.

Then, unable to contain her excitement, Christine burst out: "Hi, Leonard!"

Len grimaced and waved in return. "Hi, Christine," he said, dully.

Spock stared at Nyota. Nyota stared at Spock.

"So…" Nyota began, slowly, "…what's up?"

Spock blinked, as if suddenly snapped out of a daze.

"Um. Well," he began, clearing his throat and turning faintly green, "We were wondering if you and your friends would be willing to help us."

Behind Nyota, Christine, Janice and Gaila exchanged confused looks.

"Help you with what?" asked Gaila, frowning.

Spock's gaze remained on Nyota.

Nyota stared at him for a moment, her head cocked to one side. There was only one thing she could think of that the boys would possibly want help with.

"Spock…" she began, hesitantly, "…are you talking about Monday?"

Spock nodded.

"What's Monday?" Gaila demanded, impatiently.

Nyota looked between Spock and her friends.

"You can tell them here, right?" she asked, "We don't have to go somewhere secret, right?"

"Oh my God, WHAT?" Gaila very nearly shouted.

Spock opened his mouth to speak and began to shake his head, but Len caught his eye.

"Nobody's gonna be paying attention," Len said, "It's recess, Spock."

Spock looked over at Nyota and her friends, all of whom were looking expectantly at him. He glanced back at Len, who shrugged.

He took a deep breath. "Very well," he said, "you may want to sit down. This will take some time to explain."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, back at the willow tree, Jim, Hikaru, Scotty and Pavel all looked up expectantly as Len and Spock approached.

The girls were chatting excitedly over at the tetherball court.

Jim stood up as Len and Spock came within speaking range.

"Well?" he asked, expectantly.

"They'll do it," Len said, looking relieved to be away from Christine.

"And Saturday?" Jim asked, looking at Spock.

The corners of Spock's mouth quirked up slightly.

"They will be there," he said.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Friday night, 2066 Derby Drive, Scotty's room.

Scotty stared at the enormous sketchpad sitting in front of him, trying to think through the noise of his older brother's stereo, his older sister talking on the phone, and his younger brothers screeching and bouncing off the walls.

_It'd have tae be a pretty long pipe, but I could use air pressure tae launch it…_

"Grenade!" shrieked one of his younger brothers from downstairs.

_There'd have to be a plunger tae pull it back…_

"Oh my God, Etana, no _way_," said his sister from the next room over.

_How on earth would I load it?_

"_I'm tellin' you it's sabotage!" _screamed his older brother's stereo.

_Dangit, I canna bloody hear myself think!_

Irritably, Scotty picked up the drawings and headed out of his room, down the creaking stairs and into the kitchen where his mother, a cheerful, plump, red-haired woman, was sitting at the stove, making dinner.

"Whatchye doin' Gummy?" she asked him as he made for the door to the garage.

Scotty winced at his mother's pet name for him. "Jes' goin' to the garage," he answered, "it's too loud inside."

"Ye buildin' something?" she asked, smiling.

"Aye…" he said, trailing off and eyeing the pot on the stove his mother was stirring suspiciously. "What're ye making? Not haggis again?"

"I thought ye liked haggis," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"It gets old, mum," Scotty answered.

His mother laughed. "No, not haggis, Gummy, it's leek soup."

Scotty let out a sigh of relief and entered the garage, closing the door behind him, muffling the noise from the rest of the house.

He sat down at the workbench in the corner and flicked on the light, spreading out his drawings.

He looked them over, then picked up a pencil out of the enormous coffee mug on the windowsill, and started making adjustments.

About ten minutes passed before Scotty put the pencil down and professed himself ready to start building. He stood up to start collecting materials.

"Hey, Gum."

Scotty turned to see his father standing in the doorway, just home from the shop, a weary smile on his thin face, running a gloved hand over his balding head.

"Hi, Dad," Scotty answered.

"Ye workin' on somethin'?" he asked, walking over and taking a look at Scotty's plans. "Is this for a spud launcher?"

Scotty shrugged. "More of a dirt launcher, really."

"This some kind of school project?" his father asked.

Scotty hesitated for a moment, and then spoke: "No…jes' somethin' for me an' the boys."

His father smiled. "Ye lookin' for some help?"

Scotty looked up. "Sure," he said.

His father sat down next to him, looking over the drawings.

"What d'ye think?" asked Scotty.

"I like it," his father answered, "I like the design a lot."

Scotty beamed.

"May I make a suggestion?" his father asked.

Scotty nodded.

"If distance is what you're lookin' for, I think that spring-loaded might work better than air-powered," his father said, pointing to Scotty's sketch of the gun barrel.

Scotty stared at the sketch, thinking. His eyes widened. "Dad, that's genius!" he cried, "No wonder you're runnin' the whole garage."

His father looked at him, frowning. "The whole garage?" he asked, "No, Gum, runnin' a garage isn't impressive. Runnin' a _shipyard_, maybe…but not a garage."

"But you don't run a shipyard, Dad," Scotty said, looking curiously at his father.

"Aye, but that's jes' the thing, right?" his father asked, "If I'd gone tae university, I would be."

"But Dad…I jes' wanna do what you do."

"Gum, no…ye see…" his father hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You've got tae set your sights higher. Think of it this way. What would ye rather be doing? Sittin' here, out in th' middle of nowhere, runnin' a local garage and fixin' people's cars, raisin' a family on practically nothin'…or would you rather be designing your own ships, comin' up with new theories of relativistic physics, say. Maybe workin' for Starfleet." His father smiled slightly. "I could see you as bein' Chief Engineer of a starship someday, Gum. Wouldn't that be somethin'?"

Scotty imagined it, standing on the engineering deck of a starship, proudly smiling at his work on the warp drive.

"Aye," he said, "that'd be really great."

"But in order tae do that, ye have to go to university," his father told him, "get yourself an education."

Scotty nodded. "Okay, Dad," he said.

His father smiled. "There's a good lad," he answered, ruffling Scotty's hair. "Shall we get started, then?"

* * *

Saturday afternoon, Arbor Street.

"This is so _crazy."_

"I can't believe all this is happening in _Riverside_. I mean, for cryin' out loud, it's the middle of nowhere!"

"Ny, are you sure this isn't some insane scheme the boys have done to pull a prank on us?"

Nyota looked at her chattering friends as they headed down Arbor Street toward the junkyard where they'd been instructed to meet the boys.

"A prank?" Nyota asked, frowning.

Janice, who had suggested the idea, shrugged. "You know boys," she said, reasonably.

"No," Nyota answered, "I don't think so. Spock wouldn't do that sort of thing. Besides—he came to talk to me on Monday about it—it'd have to be pretty elaborate."

"Leonard wouldn't do that either," Christine piped up.

"With Jim Kirk as a friend?" Gaila snorted, "Bet he would."

"But Spock wouldn't," Nyota answered.

"How do _you_ know?" Gaila questioned.

Nyota shrugged. "I just know," she answered. "He's different. Spock's trustworthy."

"I dunno, gals," Janice said, cautiously, "I still think it's a little far fetched that Romulan assassins are here in Riverside trying to mess up negotiations between Earth and Vulcan."

"Why would the negotiations be in Riverside, anyway?" Gaila asked, frowning, "It's not like there's any big, crazy Starfleet operation going on. Not like San Francisco, anyways."

"Because it's secret," replied Nyota, "And we've been through this already—Spock told us on Thursday."

"Yeah, but where's the proof?" Janice asked.

"Well, I'm sure whatever it is, they'll show us," Nyota answered.

The girls then rounded the corner past Farmer Barrett's house and found themselves at the playground.

* * *

"Where are they?" asked Hikaru impatiently, checking his watch. "It's three thirty-seven. They're late."

"Hikaru, your watch is fast, remember?" Len asked from his place leaning against the antique car.

"And anyways, we weren't early, lad," Scotty added.

"How's the dirt launcher coming, Scotty?" asked Jim, who was sitting on top of the antique car, looking up at the could-patched sky.

"Pretty good," Scotty answered, "I've jes' got tae attach the barrel an' test it."

Jim nodded. "Good," he said. "Spock, anything on the negotiations?"

"I have not found any information on the time or location of the negotiations," Spock answered.

"Okay, seriously, guys?" Hikaru interrupted, "Now my watch says it's three-forty."

"Jeez, lad, your watch is _really_ fast," Scotty remarked.

"They have arrived," Spock said.

Sure enough, Nyota, Gaila, Janice and Christine had appeared from around the corner and were approaching the playground.

Jim, Len, Hikaru and Scotty stared in confusion at Spock and Pavel as they both immediately stood.

The boys, still seated, exchanged confused glances, and then, with expressions of dawning realization, all sprang to their feet.

The girls stopped just before the red antique car.

Spock took a step forward, but said nothing.

Nyota did the same.

A long, awkward silence followed.

Finally, Christine, with an enormous smile on her face, squeaked, "Hi, Leonard!"

Len let out a resigned sigh. "Hi, Christine," he muttered, staring up at the clouds.

"Hi," Nyota finally said, giving Spock a small smile.

"Hello," Spock replied. The corners of his mouth twitched. He hesitated a moment, and then turned to Jim.

Jim stepped forward, nodding once to the girls.

"Right," he said, "Let's get started."

He sat down on an old tire next to the antique car, and the others followed suit, taking seats on other old tires, empty gasoline barrels, and plastic crates, settling into a circle.

" 'Kay," Jim began, scanning the circle, "I assume everyone knows everyone here. Am I right?"

There were nods throughout the group.

"Good," Jim said. He turned his gaze toward the girls. "Spock tells me that you guys are all up to speed on the situation. You guys have any questions?"

Nyota exchanged glances with Gaila, Janice and Christine. All three shook their heads.

"No," Nyota said.

"But one concern," Gaila spoke up, holding up a finger, "Prove it."

"_Gaila," _Nyota hissed.

Jim raised his eyebrows at Gaila.

Gaila looked Jim in the eye. "Yeah," she repeated, "Prove it. Listen, Kirk, not all of us are just gonna take it for granted that there are Romulans in Riverside trying to mess up negotiations. I wanna know what makes you think that. Prove it."

"_Prove it?"_ Hikaru repeated, outraged, "You think we'd lie about this sort of thing?"

"Look at _this_!" Scotty said, furiously thrusting forward his bruised wrist, "I got attacked by a Romulan jes' a week ago!"

"How'd ya know he was a Romulan?" Gaila retorted.

"He had green blood, for cryin' out loud!" Len said, exasperated.

"Jeez, if you didn't believe us in the first place, why'd you even come?" Hikaru snapped.

Gaila shot Hikaru a glare that could've singed off his eyebrows.

"Guys, it's ok," Jim said, calmly, taking advantage of the break in conversation, looking around the circle. His eyes fell on Gaila. "If Gaila wants us to prove it, we will. Come on."

He stood and started walking toward Farmer Barrett's cornfield.

The others exchanged glances and then stood to follow.

* * *

As Gaila started to walk toward the cornfield, Nyota came up beside her.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Nyota demanded, sharply.

"I want them to prove it," Gaila answered.

"Yeah, I can see that!" Nyota hissed, "You didn't have to be so blunt about it! You could've asked nicely, you know."

"I would've sounded like a sissy," Gaila retorted, "If you're gonna disagree with somebody, you should at least be up front about it."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to be a jerk, Gaila."

Gaila smirked. "You've never had to deal with three older brothers," she replied.

Nyota looked up at the sky and sighed. "Whatever."

* * *

As the kids approached the cornfield, Jim stopped and turned, waiting for the others.

Gaila and Nyota were the first to get there.

Jim smiled at Gaila as she shot him an expectant look.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the wall of corn.

Gaila raised her eyebrows at him suspiciously, and then parted the corn stalks and entered.

* * *

Nyota waited for Spock to catch up to her before following Gaila into the corn.

Moving between the tall stalks, they were silent for a moment.

Then Nyota spoke: "Gaila doesn't believe you guys."

"Indeed," Spock replied, nodding.

"But it's not her fault," Nyota added, "She's got three older brothers who like to play pranks on people, so she's just kind of suspicious that way. Although I think she was a little over-the-top with her demands."

"Perhaps," Spock said.

Nyota looked at him between the stalks of corn.

"I believe you, though," she told him.

Their eyes met. The corners of Spock's mouth twitched again.

"I know," he said.

They emerged out of the corn.

* * *

Gaila and Jim were the first ones to make it to the first ring of the crop circle.

Upon stepping out onto the path of flattened corn, Gaila stopped, looking all around her, almost straight-faced…but not quite.

Jim, watching her, allowed himself a ghost of a wry smile as he saw the surprise in her eyes.

After a moment, Gaila asked: "So…you think the Romulans did this?"

Nyota and Spock emerged from the corn.

"Wow," Nyota said, turning in a circle.

"Yes," Jim answered Gaila.

"Hmm." Gaila looked thoughtfully at her surroundings for a moment more as the others appeared from within the corn.

"So, are you in?" Jim asked, waiting for her answer.

Gaila turned to him, meeting his eyes, giving him a wry smile of her own. "For now."

* * *

The kids then returned to the playground, having shown the girls' the crop circle, and if not completely then at least partially lessened Gaila's doubt.

"All right," Jim said, as he and the others retook their seats in the circle, "Now that that's all done, I think we should talk about what we have to do next about the whole thing. We already have Scotty working on a dirt launcher in case that Romulan guy comes back. Spock is trying to find information on when and where the Earth-Vulcan negotiations are." He turned to Spock.

Spock nodded and continued. "I am currently using my father's access code to Starfleet radio transmissions, but Starfleet operates over the entire planet and uses many different languages, of which I speak only two: English and Vulcan." He turned to Nyota. "Nyota, since you are fluent in three Earth languages and familiar with four more, counting Vulcan, I believe your talents would be essential in assisting to gather information on the negotiations. We can use my father's access code to Starfleet transmissions." He gave her a significant look.

Hidden in Nyota's smile was a silent thank-you. "Sounds good," she said, meeting Spock's eyes again.

A beat passed as they stared at one another, and Jim and Len shared a bewildered glance.

" 'Kay," Jim said, breaking the spell between Nyota and Spock, who quickly looked away from one another, "So now that we've got that settled, I have an idea."

The kids turned their attention toward Jim, and he spoke. "I think we need to sneak into the shipyard."

At first, there was silence.

Then came a flurry of voices:

"The _shipyard?"_

"What's at the shipyard? Why would we even go there?"

"How are we gonna get there?"

"When would we go?"

"How would we get in, anyways?"

"Guys—guys, listen!" Jim shouted over the din.

The chatter died down, and Jim resumed talking.

"_Listen,"_ he said, "Most of the grown-ups have been talking about some weird thing that happened at the shipyard, and with everything that's been going on, I think it'd be worth it to go check it out."

"When would we go?" Nyota asked.

Jim shrugged. "As soon as possible. With good planning, I'd say next week is doable, if everybody can come."

Around the circle, the kids exchanged looks, nodding, confirming their availability.

"But how would we get in?" Scotty questioned, frowning, "I mean…if it's got top security an' all that…"

"Scotty is correct," Spock said, "Starfleet is not an organization that takes security matters lightly. It would be difficult to get in undetected."

"Never mind how we're gonna get in, how the heck are we gonna get there in the first place?" Len demanded, "Jim, the shipyard's _ten miles_ away. I dunno about you, but I don't plan on walking."

"We could take the bus," suggested Janice.

"Yeah, ten kids without an adult taking a bus to a shipyard," Gaila snorted, "_That'll_ fly."

"_I'll_ cover transportation," Jim said.

Len sent Jim a serious look. "It's not worth it, Jim," he said, flatly.

"What's not worth it?" Pavel asked.

"Don't worry about it," Jim brushed him off, easily, "But I can't take more than four apart from myself."

Len glared at Jim, but said nothing.

"My mom can take the rest of us," piped up Christine, "She takes me wherever I want."

"Good," Jim said. "Let's do that."

"I'm coming with you," Gaila announced to Jim.

"That means…" Hikaru began, slowly, "…two of the boys'll have to go in the other car."

"Are you volunteering?" asked Gaila.

"Leonard can come with us!" Christine said, brightly, adding as an afterthought, "And Hikaru."

Len froze, looking frantically between Jim and Christine, making a strangled, choking noise, while Hikaru merely gaped at Gaila, speechless.

"Done," Jim proclaimed, glancing at Len and trying not to laugh.

"At what time should we meet to leave for the shipyard?" Spock asked.

"Well," Jim began, "We should plan on being back before sundown, so our parents don't get suspicious. How 'bout we meet here to leave around two, so—"

"Can't," Janice interrupted.

Jim blinked. "How come?" he asked her.

"Ny, Chris, Gaila and I have dance," she replied, "From two to four. Every other Saturday."

"Oh, yeah…I'd forgotten about that," Nyota realized, her lips tightening.

"Oh, c'mon, you guys can skip it for once," Gaila said, placing a stick of gum in her mouth and crossing her arms impatiently.

"Not me," Janice answered, darkly, "My mom wouldn't let me miss dance if my brains were leaking out my ears."

"What about in the morning?" Jim prompted.

"My mom can't drive us then," Christine told him, "she's teaching first aid to a bunch of high schoolers."

"So we'll leave at four fifteen—" Jim began, but all four of the girls cut him off with a din of protest.

"Four fifteen, are you crazy?"

"No, no, no, no, no, that's not gonna work."

"At _least_ four thirty."

"But…I thought you said your dance practice ended at four," Jim said, confused.

"Well, yeah," Gaila said, playing with a lock of her curly red hair, "but we gotta have time to get home."

"To put our stuff away," Janice added.

"To pick out what we're gonna wear," Christine said.

"To clean up," Nyota shrugged.

"And to get back here," Gaila finished.

The boys stared at the girls, then shared glances, completely bewildered.

"That is so weird…" Jim said, "…okay. Guys, it looks like we're gonna have to fake a sleepover." He turned his attention back to the girls. "Four thirty," he said, "No later."

The girls looked at one another.

"I think we can swing that," said Janice.

" 'Kay," Jim said, nodding, "Everyone coming with me, meet here by four thirty. Christine, do you have anywhere specific you want everyone else to meet you?"

"Nope," she replied, cheerfully, "My mom can pick up everybody up. Although I need Hikaru's address."

Len, at this, finally found his voice. "What about _my_ address?" he spluttered.

"Oh, I don't need it," Christine replied, smiling, "I know where _you_ live."

All the blood drained from Len's face, and Jim put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Okay," he said, smiling widely, "it's settled, then. Scotty, bring the dirt launcher, just in case. Oh, and Gaila…" He turned to Gaila, his smile turning into a grin: "…tag! You're it!" And he tagged her on the shoulder and ran.

"Oh, you're dead!" Gaila shrieked, jumping to her feet and tearing after Jim across the playground.

Tag lasted for a good half hour, and then the kids switched to Spaceship, which, to the boys' surprise, the girls were remarkably good at.

At around six, the girls left for home, and Spock's mother came to pick him up.

Shortly after that, Scotty was called home by his mother. Hikaru and Pavel parted a few minutes later. Only Jim and Len were left.

The two boys sat, staring up at the dimming sky, pointing out shapes in the clouds.

"That's a chupacabra right there," Jim said, pointing to a large cloud overhead.

"Yeah, right," Len answered, grinning, "You don't even know what a chupacabra looks like."

"Fine, it's a giant, fanged cricket," Jim amended.

"Nuh-uh!" Len snorted, shaking his head.

"Well what do _you_ think it looks like?" Jim demanded, laughing slightly.

Len thoughtfully regarded the cloud in question.

"I think…" he began, slowly, "…it looks kind of like a starship."

Jim tilted his head to one side to get a better angle. "Yeah," he nodded, "I can see that."

They fell silent for a moment, staring up into the sky.

Then Jim burst out laughing.

"What?" Len demanded. _"What?"_

"Nothing," Jim snorted, "it's just…I'm remembering the look on your face when Christine said she knew where you lived!"

"Oh, _that,"_ Len said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, about that, Jim…you just sentenced me to my imminent doom."

"Well, I couldn't very well have said no!" Jim protested, still laughing slightly, "C'mon, you'll have Hikaru to talk to. How bad could it be?"

"Famous last words, those," Len muttered.

"Seriously, though, it can't be that bad," Jim said, looking over at Len.

"Have you ever had a little girl walk up to you and squeal, _'Hi, Jimmy!'"_ Len asked, raising his eyebrows.

Jim winced at the name 'Jimmy'. "…Point taken," he said, looking back up at the cloud. A grin spread across his face. _"…Leonard."_

"_Jimmy,"_ Len responded.

"Leonard," Jim teased.

"Jimmy."

"Leonard."

"Jimmy."

"_Bones."_

Len stopped and stared at Jim, a bemused expression on his face. Then he shrugged and looked back up at the sky.

The two boys fell silent once more.

After another minute or so, Len spoke again: "It's not worth it, you know. What you're gonna do."

Jim was silent.

Len looked over at his friend, no longer smiling. "He's just gonna beat you up again."

No answer.

"Jim?"

Jim took a deep breath. "He's going to beat me up anyways," he answered.

"What makes you think getting the crap beat out of you is worth it?" Len asked, a warning in his tone. "We might not even find anything."

Jim sat up, meeting Len's eyes, a small smile on his face. "But we might. That's what makes it worth it." His smile widened. "…Leonard."

Len couldn't hide his own smile. "Jimmy."

* * *

The week following the meeting was spent in preparation for the trip to the shipyard.

Scotty finished building and successfully tested the dirt launcher, and declared it ready for action on Tuesday morning.

The girls, all of whom were fluent in Morse code, courtesy of Nyota, made several futile attempts to teach the boys the ancient communication system. Predictably, Spock was the only one who made any progress. He and Nyota began using Morse code to communicate through their radios while searching for information on the negotiations in the evenings.

Lastly, the kids set up a system of beacons between their houses to contact one another in case they couldn't use phones. It was partially based on a system the girls had set up, where Nyota would signal Gaila, Gaila would signal Christine, and Christine would signal Janice. The way it ran now was that Nyota would signal Gaila and contact Spock on her radio, Gaila would signal Christine, Christine would signal Len, Janice and Pavel, Janice would signal Hikaru, Len would call Scotty, and Scotty would signal Jim.

Janice had organized the order of signals. The kids successfully tested it on Thursday night, albeit with a little difficulty when the signal reached Scotty, who had had to give Len his brother's cell phone number in addition to his house number.

By Friday, everything was in place. Christine's mother had agreed to drive Christine's group to the shipyard, and all of the boys' parents thought they were camping out at the playground.

…And then came Saturday.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Nyota stood in the sun before the Riverside Dance Studio, waiting for her mother to arrive to pick up her and her friends, twisting a strand of long, braided hair between her fingers.

Beside her, Gaila had her arms crossed and was impatiently drumming her fingers. Christine was peering eagerly down the street, searching for Nyota's mother's maroon SUV, and Janice was halfheartedly practicing one of the new dance moves they had learned that day, looking up every few seconds to see if their ride was there.

All four of them were tired, sweat-streaked, sore and impatient.

"What kind of car do you think Jim's got?" Gaila asked Nyota, curiously.

Nyota shrugged. "Something that can only fit five people counting him, so not an SUV or a minivan or something."

Gaila nodded in agreement. "Hopefully it's something cool," she said, "Like a racing car, or something."

"Since when have you ever cared about cars?" Nyota asked, a bemused expression on her face as she turned to face Gaila.

"Whaddaya mean?" Gaila asked, popping a stick of gum into her mouth and starting to chew. "I've always liked cars."

"Not like this," Nyota answered.

Gaila shrugged and blew a pink bubble in response.

"Who do you think Jim got to drive you guys?" Nyota asked.

"I dunno," Gaila mused, "His mom's off planet, and I dunno about his stepdad…" She shrugged again. "I don't know who else Jim knows who can drive."

"Hmmph," Nyota murmured thoughtfully, studying a spot on the round.

"Ny, your mom's here," Gaila announced, as Nyota's mother pulled up in a large, maroon SUV, blasting the girls' favorite music. Nyota's mother gave the girls a friendly wave through the window.

The girls piled into the SUV, all greeting Nyota's mother, and the SUV made a U-turn and started heading back the way it had come.

As Nyota buckled her seatbelt, a crazy thought occurred to her. _What if Jim…_she thought, but trailed off, smiling to herself. _…Nah…that's just too crazy._

* * *

Ten minutes later, Gaila stepped out of Nyota's mother's car, waving to Nyota as the SUV turned and pulled into the house right across the street.

She turned and headed up the path to her own house, stepping up to the door and turning the doorknob.

The door didn't budge.

She huffed an irritated sigh, stepped back, looked up to the second floor and shouted: "CRAY!"

A window opened and the head of her second-eldest brother poked out, his jaw partly covered in shaving cream.

"What?" he asked, grinning playfully.

"Unlock the door, ya pile of slug guts, I gotta be somewhere!" Gaila yelled.

"What's the password?" he asked, leaning on the windowsill and lazily dangling his razor over the porch.

"You're a prank-playing, gray-faced, piratey pile of slugs!" she fired back, crossing her arms impatiently.

"That's the one!" Cray replied, cheerfully stepping away from the window.

About a minute later, the front door swung open and Gaila marched inside, heading straight past her brother toward the stairs.

"I need the bathroom, so hurry up," she told him as she headed upstairs.

"Jeez, I'm already done," Cray grinned, following and holding up his hands in mock-protest. He ran a hand over his bare jaw. "Smooth as sea glass. So what hot date are you going on?"

"Go swallow a slug, Cray," Gaila rolled her eyes, reaching the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Cray merely laughed.

* * *

Across the street, Nyota's room.

When she got home, Nyota had wasted no time in rushing upstairs, putting away her dance stuff, and showering. Now she stood in her underwear, staring at her closet, wide-eyed, completely indecisive.

_What do I wear, what do I wear? _she thought, her eyes flitting from one hanger to the next.

"Nyota!" came her mother's voice from downstairs.

"Yeah?" Nyota asked.

"Christine's mom called—she says she'll be here in about ten minutes!"

Nyota's heart skipped a beat. "Okay," she answered.

_Oh my God, what do I wear?_

Finally she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and reached forward into the closet, grabbing two hangers at random.

When she opened her eyes, she found that she was holding a pair of faded blue jeans and a green tank top.

She glanced to her window, where sunlight was streaming through the curtains.

She smiled, looking back at the tank top.

_I can go sleeveless, _she thought.

* * *

Gaila studied herself in the mirror, looking critically over her outfit.

She had chosen jeans and sneakers to be practical, just in case they ended up sneaking around the shipyard, and she her lucky shirt—her favorite shirt from when she lived on Orion. It was sleeveless, sturdy and canvas white, with the phrase: "Hunter or Hunted?" written on it in Orion in blue ink. She hardly wore it now because it was starting to get too small for her, but noticing the way it just barely showed her stomach when she stretched over, Gaila had smiled and decided it would be perfect for the job. She was also wearing earrings (all Orion girls had their ears pierced at birth) and several bracelets.

Professing herself satisfied with the outfit, she grinned and headed downstairs and out the door.

* * *

Nyota had just finished tugging on her shoes and pulling her hair into a ponytail when the doorbell rang.

She headed downstairs and opened the front door to find Christine standing there, her white-blonde hair pulled into pigtails and her enormous blue eyes shining with excitement.

"We're going to pick up Leonard next!" she squealed.

Nyota managed a weak smile. "Bye, Mom!" she called over her shoulder and started toward Christine's mother's minivan, where waited Janice and an uncomfortable looking Hikaru, huddled in the back seat, shrinking into the leather.

Nyota's mother appeared at the door behind Nyota and waved goodbye, thanking Christine's mother, who smiled and promised to have Nyota back by nine.

Nyota and Christine climbed into the car, buckled in, and waited as Christine's mother turned the van around, heading for Len's house.

* * *

Gaila arrived at the playground at exactly four thirty, just as Spock was waving goodbye to his mother, who was driving away around the corner. Scotty and Pavel were there, and Scotty was showing Pavel the dirt launcher, testing it.

But no Jim.

"See, ye take it like this," Scotty was saying, pointing the barrel of the dirt launcher at the ground, "an' ye release the spring tae load it." He pulled the trigger and a small tuna can on a spring shot out of the barrel and into the ground and bounced back, now full of dirt. "Hey, Gaila." Scotty gave her a friendly wave.

"Hi," Gaila said, scanning the playground. "Where's Jim?"

"He's nae here," Scotty answered, resetting the spring, pulling the tuna can back into the barrel. "An' then," he told Pavel, "ye fire away."

He pointed the dirt launcher at the sky and pulled the trigger again, and a tuna can-sized dirt clod went flying into the distance.

"_Cool!"_ Pavel exclaimed, "Can I try?"

"Go ahead," Scotty said, cheerfully handing Pavel the gun.

"Is he usually late?" Gaila asked.

"No," Spock replied, "it is unusual for Jim to arrive any time but early."

"Hmm." Gaila pulled her gum out of her pocket and put a piece in her mouth, starting to chew.

"Dinnae worry, ye two," Scotty told them, casually taking a seat on an old crate and leaning back against one of the antique cars, "He'll be here."

* * *

Len's house, the living room.

"Len," called Len's grandmother serenely from the kitchen, "isn't that girl gonna be here soon? Catherine? Caitlyn?"

Upstairs in his room, Len sighed. "Christine, Grandma," he answered, "her name's Christine."

"Oh, yes…" came the absent reply, "…well, I have some cookies for you!"

Len sighed again. "Okay," he said, starting down the stairs, heading into the kitchen where his grandmother was sitting down, an enormous plate of cookies on the table next to a tall glass of milk.

"Thanks," said Len quietly, sliding into his seat and dejectedly dipping one of the warm cookies into the milk.

His grandmother cocked her head to one side, looking curiously at her grandson. "What's wrong?"

Len shrugged, not particularly wanting to share his thoughts on Christine.

His grandmother pushed up her glasses on her nose and sat across from him, helping herself to a cookie. She stayed silent for a moment, and then spoke: "You know," she began, "When _I'm_ sad, I think about dormice tap-dancing on the shells of turtles."

Len looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"It makes me _laugh,"_ his grandmother confided, nodding.

Len blinked. "How'd you come up with _that?"_ he asked.

His grandmother shrugged, smiling absently into the middle distance, "Oh, just a dream I had once," she said, trailing off and taking a bite of cookie.

Len stared at her for a moment, wondering what she'd been doing before she'd had that dream. When she didn't speak, he took a sip of milk, completely bewildered.

Then the doorbell rang, snapping both of them out of the spell.

"That must be her," Len's grandmother said.

Len nodded, finishing off his cookie and chasing it down with milk as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. "Thanks for the cookies, Grandma," he said, giving her a small smile.

"Have fun," his grandmother answered, smiling serenely still.

Len pulled on his jacket and opened the front door to a beaming Christine with her hair pulled into pigtails and her eyes wide.

"Hi, Leonard!" she squealed.

Len felt his face burn again. "Hi, Christine," he answered, dully.

"Come on!" Christine said, giddily turning and starting for the minivan parked in front of Len's house.

Len sighed and, resigned to his fate, trudged after her. _Dormice and turtles, Len, _he thought, _Dormice and turtles._

* * *

Jim's house: at the end of Derby Drive.

Jim shut the front door and walked out into the sun, his stepfather's words echoing in his head: _"Go on, get outta here! And don't make noise while the game's on!"_

From inside, he could hear the volume of the TV going up. No doubt his stepfather wanted no distractions as he started off on his usual weekend binge.

_Good, _Jim thought, _that'll help…_

He looked left, then right, looking to see if anyone was around. The street was empty.

A small smile curved Jim's lips as he turned around and started for the garage.

* * *

Back at the playground, Gaila was beginning to get antsy. Every minute or two she'd head over to Spock, grab his wrist, check the time on his watch, and then huff a sigh and cross her arms, pacing off in a circle.

Spock, despite his usual aura of calm, was concerned as well, and stood looking down Derby Drive for any sign of Jim's short, lean blond figure walking toward them.

Scotty and Pavel occupied themselves with taking turns firing the dirt launcher.

The fifth time Gaila checked Spock's watch, she threw her hands up, marched over to where Scotty and Pavel were sitting, and sat on one of the old tires, an irritated look on her face.

"He's late," Gaila announced.

"Jes' five minutes," Scotty answered, reasonably, "Be patient, lassie, he'll be here. Maybe he's jes' havin' difficulty with the ride."

"Well, I hope he gets here soon," Gaila muttered, "I don't wanna have to rush to catch up with the others…" She trailed off, frowning. "Do you hear that?"

"It is an automobile," Spock called from his place near the street.

"Probably not for us," Gaila muttered.

"It is decelerating," Spock answered.

Gaila looked up in surprise. She, Scotty and Pavel stood and headed over to where Spock was standing to see a classic red convertible approaching the playground.

Scotty stared at the car. "That's a 2067 convertible!" he realized. He squinted at the driver. "Is that…" he began, trailing off. His eyes went huge.

The car continued by Farmer Barrett's house and rolled to a stop before the playground, the engine rumbling like a jungle cat.

Scotty's mouth fell open, and Pavel's eyes went wide. Spock cocked his head to one side. Gaila simply stared.

The car had stopped for them.

Jim was sitting in the driver's seat.

* * *

For a moment, all was silent.

Then Jim, with a small smile on his face asked, "Well, are you guys coming?"

A shocked, delighted grin spread across Gaila's face.

"Shotgun!" she shrieked, heading over to the car and jumping into the front seat.

Spock frowned as Scotty and Pavel went for the back.

"Jim," he began, "I do not believe this is legal."

Jim shrugged. "Well, Spock," he began, reasonably, "Neither is sneaking into a shipyard."

Spock raised an eyebrow but said no more as he climbed into the back seat between Scotty and Pavel.

Jim turned around. "Seat belts, guys?" he asked, "And gal?"

The boys and Gaila buckled in.

"Ok, let's get outta here!"

Jim revved the engine and turned left onto the road to the shipyard, flying past the corn under a blue sky and a shining sun.

* * *

Meanwhile, Christine's group had taken a different route to the shipyard and Christine's mother was playing the radio on a "kid-friendly", as the speakers called it, station that seemed only to play cutesy, rock-n'-roll sing-a-longs that none of them had ever heard before.

Janice was riding shotgun, with Nyota sitting right behind her, and Hikaru sitting behind Nyota in the furthest back section of the car. Christine was sitting behind her mother, leaning back over the seat to talk to Len, who was next to Hikaru in the far back.

_Pleeeease, pleeeeease let this be over soon, _Len thought miserably as Christine grilled him with all sorts of the most random questions, giggling whenever she found that they had something in common and squeaking, "Me too!"

Every once in awhile, she would break away to talk to the other girls, and Len could breathe easy.

During one of these breaks, Len turned to Hikaru and said in a low voice, "I wonder how Jim's getting on."

Hikaru shrugged. "I dunno," he answered, "but whatever he's doing, he's probably having more fun than this."

Christine turned back to Len at that moment and asked, gleefully, "Do you like ice cream, Leonard? I _love_ ice cream."

Len resisted the urge to scream.

* * *

Gaila let out a scream of elation with the song blasting on the radio as the convertible tore down the road, sending up an enormous cloud of dirt in its wake.

In the back seat, Scotty was grinning and Pavel's curly hair was flying in every direction but forward. Spock, wedged between them, looked as if he were about to puke.

"Where didja _get_ this thing?" Gaila shrieked, bouncing up and down in her seat (as much as the seatbelt would allow) "And how didja learn how to drive?"

"I've taken it out before, to wash it," Jim answered, grinning.

Gaila's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "No. Way," she said.

Just then, the phone built into the car rang loudly and the music paused. Jim hit the answer button and an angry voice shouted: "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing with my goddamn car? You think I haven't called the cops to track you down already, you stupid sonofabitch? When I get my hands on you, you are gonna regret it, you dumb bastard—you're probably just some dumbass teenager playing a prank—well it sure as shit ain't funny!" Then—"…Wait a second…_Jim?"_

Jim hit the off button on the phone and slowly turned to face the boys.

All was silent. Spock, Scotty and Pavel simply stared.

Gaila's mouth was hanging open in shock. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.

"Oh my God, you stole it," she said. She cupped her hands and shrieked at the sky, "I'M DRIVING WITH A CAR JACKER! WHOOOOOHOOOOOOO!"

"Gaila!" Jim protested, but with a smile on his face.

Gaila turned the music back on, shouting, "GRAND THEFT AUTO, BABY, YEAH! WHOOOOOHOOOOOOO!"

In the back seat, Spock took a deep, patient breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, and the convertible sped on.

* * *

At 4:45, Christine's group arrived at the shipyard.

Len glanced out the back window of the minivan as it crawled slowly through shipyard security.

_How the heck are Jim and everybody else gonna get in? _he thought, staring at the high stone wall that stretched around the entire facility, _There are Starfleet people everywhere. And that wall's gotta be about ten feet tall._

He watched as Christine's mother showed her clearance pass to the officer at the entrance gate.

_How are they gonna get past that?_

Len's thoughts were interrupted as Christine leaned back over her seat, asking, "Do you like horses, Leonard?"

Len shrank back into the seat as far as he could go and answered, hesitantly: "…Um…sure. Why?"

"I _love_ horses! We should go horseback riding sometime! There's a ranch not far from Riverside and there's all kinds of horses there and they're really nice, and—"

"Chris!" called a voice.

Christine turned to see that the car had parked, and Janice, Nyota and Christine's mother had already gotten out.

"C'mon, Chris," Nyota said, smiling.

"Coming!" Christine answered. "Just before exiting the car, she turned to Len again, adding, "It'd be fun!"

Len breathed a weary sigh as Christine bounded out onto the ground. He sent a grim smile to Nyota and mouthed: _Thanks._

Nyota shrugged and smiled in return. _No problem._

Len followed Hikaru out of the car and into the sun, where Christine was bouncing up and down, giddily.

"So, who's up for ice cream?" asked Christine's mother, smiling.

Christine, Janice, Nyota and Hikaru all cheered.

Len blinked in surprise and he started to follow the group of kids and Christine's mother across the parking lot.

_Ice cream…?_

* * *

Back in the convertible, the shipyard had come into view, and Jim started slowing down, turning down the volume of the music.

"It appears we are on the back side of the shipyard," said Spock, as he regarded the high, stone wall around the facility. "I do not see an entrance."

"Yeah, I took one of the back roads," Jim replied, "Less people to see us."

"You mean you've been out here before?" Gaila asked, her eyes widening.

Jim shrugged modestly, a small smile on his face. "Once or twice," he answered.

"How exactly do we plan on gettin' in here, then?" Scotty asked, frowning at the wall. "We canna exactly dig under this, can we?"

"No," Jim told him, still smiling, "but I've got a plan."

He continued for another hundred yards or so until he reached a section of the wall where there was an old, solitary, knotted tree growing next to it.

He parked the car and took out the keys, stuffing them into his pocket as he hopped out. He headed around the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out a long, thick, coiled rope.

" 'Kay," he said as the others followed him, "See that branch there?"

He pointed to a thick branch hanging low over the wall of the shipyard. The others nodded, and he continued:

"First, I'll climb up that tree, then tie the end of the rope to that branch. Then I'll go out on the branch and lower myself down on the other side. You guys can climb over, and I'll hold the rope taut so it's easier. Okay?"

"Sounds good, let's go!" Gaila grinned, starting for the tree after Jim, but Spock spoke up, interrupting:

"Wait…" he began, frowning, "…I hear something."

He fell silent, straining his ears.

Slowly, he turned back to the road, staring into the distance.

Then, not more than a hundred feet away, there came the sound of a large, steel gate sliding out of the way, and a truck appeared from within the shipyard.

All five of the kids ducked and hid behind the convertible as the truck turned right and started heading away from them.

As it rolled off into the distance, Jim stood. The others did the same.

"We must be near a gate," Jim remarked, watching the truck grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared around a corner.

He turned back to the others. "Right. I'll make sure the coast is clear."

He took the rope and looped it around his arm, and then took hold of the tree, and started to climb.

Jim expertly took hold of two of the many knots on the trunk, dug in his toes, and hoisted himself off the ground, repeating the process until he was high enough to grab a branch that would support his weight, and climbing up onto it.

From there, he carefully stood, took hold of another branch, and pulled himself up onto the branch that hung over the wall.

"What d'ye see?" Scotty called.

Jim looked over the wall and then back at the others. A smile had appeared on his face. "You'll see."

He tied the rope tightly around the branch, tugging on it just in case as he scooted further down the branch, dangled his feet over the edge, and stepped onto the stone wall.

Jim held himself steady against the branch, and tossed the end of the rope down the other side of the wall. Then he took hold of the rope with both hands.

Like a rappeller moving down a cliff face, he slowly leaned back, letting the tree branch and the rope take his weight, starting to lower himself down the wall.

The others watched, their full attention on him, all of them holding their breath.

Gaila caught Jim's eye.

He grinned at her.

And, slowly, Jim disappeared behind the wall.

* * *

A few tense moments passed once Jim moved out of the kids' view. They exchanged glances, waiting for someone to break the silence, to volunteer to go next.

Then, from behind the wall, came Jim's voice: "It's all good! Come on over, you guys!"

"Be right there, Jim!" Scotty answered. He looked around at the others. "So…" he began, hesitantly, "…who's next?"

"I'll do it," Gaila volunteered, grinning.

She walked over to the tree and immediately began to climb, moving steadily up the trunk, faster and with more expertise any of the boys in the group.

Pavel and Scotty watched her in awe, wide-eyed and mouths agape.

Jim, standing beside a clump of weeds on the other side of the wall, also watched as Gaila nimbly walked along the branch to the wall and stepped down, taking hold of the rope and walking down the wall as if she had been doing it her whole life.

"You're really good at that," Jim told her as she jumped the remaining two feet onto the dusty, weed-choked ground.

Gaila grinned at him. "I used to climb trees on Orion," she answered, "when I played _hunted_ with my brothers."

"What's hunted?" Jim asked, curiously.

Gaila smiled coyly. "It's a game," she replied, vaguely.

Jim grinned back at her. "You'll have to teach me sometime."

* * *

After Gaila came Pavel and Scotty (who had some difficulty with lowering himself down the wall due to the fact that he was carrying the dirt launcher, and ended up stumbling back onto his bottom when he landed), and finally Spock.

"Whoa," Scotty said, getting up and dusting himself off, looking at the surrounding area. "What is this place?"

Stretching about a hundred yards ahead and two hundred yards in length was an area that was completely deserted and overgrown with enormous weeds and tall grass.

"It's perfect, that's what it is," Jim said, "it's an old airstrip—back from when planes had to use a runway, you know? Nobody's around. It's the _perfect_ cover."

"What will we do with the rope?" asked Spock, the moment he landed.

"We can get it afterwards," Jim answered. "Okay. Remember the cover story—we came here with Christine's mom—Mrs. Chapel—and we got lost looking for the bathroom."

The others nodded.

"Right," Jim said, grinning, "let's go."

And he started off through the thick, tall grass toward the main buildings of the shipyard, off in the distance.

* * *

The journey across the abandoned airstrip proved to be more difficult than the kids had anticipated. More than once they had to make detours around large clusters of tall weeds, too dense too move through. The ground was weed-choked, dry and dusty and the sun overhead soon surpassed its degree of sunny warmth and moved on to be bright, hot and entirely uncomfortable for the kids as they made their way toward the main section of the shipyard.

By the time they finally stepped out of the jungle and onto paved ground, they were dusty, thirsty, sweating, and irritated.

"Okay," Scotty began, brushing a week's worth of dirt off his jeans, "Let's never go that way again."

"Da," Pavel agreed, nodding.

Jim scanned the surrounding area, looking for Christine and the others, finding none of them. "Right," he began, "Somebody around here's bound to know where Christine and the others are. We'll ask around—"

"No need," Gaila interrupted him flatly, looking out across the parking lot at the building marked "Commissary". "I know where they'll be."

Followed by the boys, she strode across the parking lot to the building, swinging open the door and marching inside to where Christine, Nyota, Hikaru and Len were all sitting at the bar, sipping milkshakes.

Upon hearing the others enter, Christine's group turned around.

Pavel and Scotty both stopped dead in their tracks, their mouths falling open.

"Milkshakes!" Scotty exclaimed.

"Oh, hey," Len said amiably, looking expectantly at Jim, "What took you guys so long?"

The bartender, a slightly chubby, white-haired man wearing a pair of thick glasses looked up at the newcomers from behind the bar. "These them friends of yours, Christine?" he asked Christine, "the ones who came late?"

"Yep," Christine answered, nodding.

"You kids want milkshakes?" the bartender asked, "on the house—always for little Miss Christine, here."

Christine beamed. "Thanks, Bob," she told the bartender.

"Oh, _absolutely!"_ gasped Scotty, scrambling over to the bar and taking a seat.

Pavel followed suit and so did Gaila, all three of them starting to ask for their favorite ice cream flavors.

Only Spock and Jim stayed behind. Jim looked slightly dismayed that they weren't going to get to explore right away, but then he turned to Spock and shrugged, as if to say, "Well, it _is_ ice cream."

He too then walked over to the bar and took a seat, and Spock, not knowing what else to do, did the same.

"D'ye have Butter Rum?" Scotty was asking Bob.

Bob nodded, a wry smile on his wrinkled face. "Aren't you a bit young for hard liquor, young man?" he questioned, jokingly.

Scotty grinned. "I ken hold it," he replied, evenly.

Bob laughed. "All right, Mister, if you say so." He turned to Gaila. "Ah, Miss Gaila. Bubble Gum Blast, your usual?"

"You got it!" Gaila answered, grinning.

"Do you have Sweet Cream?" Pavel asked Bob.

"Certainly," Bob answered.

"Sweet Cream?" Len frowned, "isn't that, like, the blandest flavor of ice cream there is?"

Pavel shrugged. "It tastes like home," he answered.

Bob turned to Jim. "And for you?" he asked.

A grin spread across Jim's face. "Rocky Road all the way!" he said, confidently.

"All right, there's a man who knows what he wants!" Bob turned to Spock. "And for you?"

Spock hesitated. "I…I do not know," he said, slowly, "…I have never had ice cream before."

Everyone turned to Spock, staring at him in horror.

"Never had _ice cream?"_ Len burst out, wide-eyed. "Jeez, what do you eat on Vulcan?"

"Ice cream is not nutritionally valuable," Spock answered, "to Vulcans, it is illogical."

"It's illogically delicious," Scotty told him, grinning.

Bob gave Spock a wry smile. "You wouldn't be Ambassador Sarek's son, would you?"

Spock nodded. "I am."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Bob said, "How about you try some and see what you like?"

Spock cocked his head to one side and shrugged. "All right," he said.

Everyone watched in anticipation as Bob let Spock sample each flavor of ice cream, leaving out, of course, those containing chocolate. Whenever Spock tried anything that one of the other kids was eating, said kid would lean in, waiting to see whether Spock shared his or her taste in ice cream.

For the most part, Spock did not.

He declared Lime Sherbert far too tangy ("What's wrong with tangy?" asked Hikaru), Butter Rum too sticky ("That's the best part!" Scotty protested), Sweet Cream too bland, ("It tastes just fine to me," Pavel said, shrugging), and Bubble Gum Blast far too sweet ("Nothin' like a sugar rush," Gaila answered, grinning.)

"Your father expressed the same taste when he took the tour," Bob told him.

Spock's eyebrows went up in surprise. "My father took a tour here?"

Bob nodded.

"And he consumed ice cream?"

Bob nodded again.

Spock fell silent, contemplating this.

There was a short silence, and then Len, a few seats down, smirked and announced, _"Fascinating."_

Finally, after Spock had pointed out the faults of almost everyone's ice cream, Nyota stepped forward to him with her milkshake.

"Here," she said, handing it over to him, "try this one."

Spock looked at the blended ice cream inside. It was a medium shade of brown, seemingly without chunks of anything else in it, like some of the other flavors.

Spock took the glass from Nyota, lifted it to his lips, and took a sip.

All eyes were on him as he did so, watching, waiting.

Spock blinked.

It was _perfect._

It was sweet, but bitter at the same time, and cold, but not so cold that he couldn't taste the flavor. But more than that, the taste was…intelligent. Sophisticated.

Silence reigned at the bar as everyone watched Spock swallow and hand the glass back to Nyota.

"I…" he began, "It is…illogically delicious."

Slowly, grinning, Jim started to clap, and the bar burst into applause. Scotty whopped. Gaila gave a shrill whistle. Len muttered, _"Finally,"_ rolling his eyes, but smirking just the same.

Spock, in the middle of it all, went faintly green and looked at Nyota.

She was smiling.

* * *

_Finally, _Jim thought, twenty minutes later as he stepped outside into the sun, the taste of his rocky road milkshake sticking inside his mouth.

He waited as the others followed, leaving the commissary in twos and threes, stepping forward and waiting for Jim to speak.

When Christine, the last one out, exited, thanking Bob and smiling, Jim spoke.

"Right," he began, "We'll go in two groups. Len, Gaila, Pavel, you're with me. Spock, take Nyota, Scotty and Hikaru. Janice, Christine, you guys'll each navigate for a group, seeing as how you know your way around here the best."

"I'll go in Len's group!" Christine volunteered, brightly.

Len's eyes opened wide and he sent a pleading look at Jim.

Jim, suppressing a laugh, nodded in agreement. "Done. Christine, you're with us. Janice, you're with them. We'll meet back at the shuttle area in half an hour."

As the kids split apart into two groups and started moving in separate directions, Len sent Jim an _I will get you for this_ look.

Jim responded with an innocent shrug and a smile. "Christine," he called.

Christine turned around. "Yes?" she asked.

Jim smiled. "Lead on."

Immediately following Jim's order to "lead on", Christine went into full tour-guide mode, walking her group through each building of the shipyard, and giving them every possible detail on the building in record-breaking time, a permanent, sunny smile on her face.

As she led them down the dusty road away from the commissary, Len fell into step beside Jim at the back of the group.

"You're evil, you know that?" he asked, "Pure evil."

Jim grinned. "Well, she's not talking to you now, is she?" he answered, quietly, _"…Leonard."_

Len rolled his eyes. "Jimmy."

* * *

In Janice's group, things were slightly less like a tour and slightly more like an expedition, where Scotty and Hikaru would eagerly point out buildings to explore and Janice would tell them the name of the building in question. Then the group would go inside, looking around for interesting things, and then leave, heading for the next building.

Spock and Nyota walked at the back of the group.

"What flavor of ice cream was that?" Spock asked her, "I do not believe anyone has told me its name."

"Coffee," Nyota answered, smiling.

Spock nodded. "It is very…delicious," he said, "Illogically so, but I find that does not detract from its deliciousness."

"Yeah," Nyota agreed, "a lot of people I know don't like it because it's supposed to be a grown-up thing, but I think it's great. I love how it's bitter and sweet at the same time." She paused for a moment, and then giggled to herself.

"What is it?" Spock asked.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Nyota answered, slightly embarrassed, "You'll laugh at me."

Spock looked at her intently. "I could never laugh at you," he told her.

Nyota met Spock's eyes, saw the seriousness in his expression. She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "Well," she began, "…I've always thought that coffee ice cream tastes kind of…well…it can't really taste like this, but I think it tastes kind of…"

"Intelligent," Spock finished.

Nyota looked back over at him, her eyes wide and surprised.

"Exactly," she told him, "How did you know?"

Spock met her eyes. "I…do not know."

* * *

Half an hour later: The shuttle yard.

As the sun began to head toward the horizon, Jim and his group stood outside the shuttle yard, waiting for Janice's group to show up, having found nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary.

Christine, having ceased her tour of the shipyard, had started talking to Len again, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her pigtails swaying back and forth with the rhythm. Len was standing against a tall, metal light pole, avoiding Christine's eyes, looking immensely uncomfortable. He kept shooting pleading looks over at Jim, who didn't notice, as Gaila was explaining to him and Pavel the game Hunted.

"So it's cross country, through the jungle, being tracked by three or four other people, who can lay traps," Jim repeated, his mouth agape.

Gaila nodded. "Yep. 'Bout twenty miles a day. Between my place and Grandma's house."

"Cool!" Jim said, impressed. "You'll have to show me sometime."

Gaila smiled coyly. "Maybe." She glanced over to Len and Christine, and Len shot her and Jim a _save me_ look.

Jim looked between Len and Gaila and shrugged, as if to say, _We've tortured him enough._

Gaila rolled her eyes and headed over to Christine, taking her by the arm and gently pulling her away from Len, who gratefully hurried over to Jim.

"Thanks," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders.

"Tired of discussing ponies and wedding dresses?" Jim asked, grinning.

"And dolls. Don't forget dolls."

"Oh, but dolls are so _interesting!"_ Jim put on a silly adoring smile and clasped his hands.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Len cast a wary look back at Christine, who was now talking excitedly to Gaila. "This all better be worth it, Jim."

"Well, you got ice cream, didn't you?" Jim asked.

"I mean you. Worth it for you," Len replied.

"What do you mean, worth it for me?"

Len gave him a dark look. "I mean what's gonna happen when you get home."

Jim's grin faded. "Oh. That," he said. He shrugged. "I'm hoping he'll be too drunk to notice. Or passed out."

A pause.

"And if he's not?" Len asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'll deal with it." He looked up. "Spock's group's here.

Sure enough, approaching them from across the parking lot were Spock, Nyota, Janice, Hikaru and Scotty, Janice leading, Hikaru and Scotty chasing and poking one another, and Spock and Nyota deep in conversation.

"Find anything?" Jim asked.

Janice shook her head.

"Nothing," she said.

Jim turned to face the shuttle yard, took a deep breath. "Well," he began, "Let's hope there's something in here."

He turned and started down the path between the shuttles.

* * *

The shuttles were arranged in rows, divided down the center by a wide dirt path that stretched on until it reached the overgrown, abandoned airstrip.

As the kids walked along the path, a slight breeze picked up. Walking at the back of the group Nyota shivered, glancing to the west, where the sun had just dipped out of sight.

_Stupid, _she thought, _Why didn't you bring a jacket?_

Spock, walking beside her, looked over, concern on his face. "You are cold," he said.

Nyota was snapped back to reality. "Huh?" she asked.

Spock cocked an eyebrow. "You are shivering."

"Oh." Nyota rubbed her bare arms. "A little."

Spock immediately took off his jacket and held it out to Nyota.

"Oh, no, it's okay, really," Nyota protested. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gaila watching the scene unfold, smirking.

"An extra layer of clothing will retain a greater amount of your body heat, and you will feel less cold," Spock told her, "It is logical."

"Well, what about you?" Nyota asked.

"The place where I lived on Vulcan is a desert and the temperature drops below freezing each night. I am accustomed to the cold," Spock answered.

Nyota, not knowing what else to say, took the jacket and put it on. "Thank you," she said.

Spock glanced ahead. "You are welcome."

Although the light was fading, Nyota could easily see the pale green blush on Spock's face.

* * *

The kids spent the next twenty minutes wandering up and down the rows of shuttles, searching and finding nothing as all around, the light continued to dim.

They emerged from one of the rows out onto the main path, Jim leading them.

He glanced left, and his heart started to sink as he saw that they had almost reached the end of the shuttle area and the beginning of the abandoned airstrip. There were only a few rows left.

Len appeared beside him. "Jim…" he began, hesitantly, "…maybe there isn't anything here."

Jim shook his head. "There's something. There has to be. I _know_ it."

"Jim, listen." Len stepped in front of him. "Crash at my house tonight. Let your stepdad cool his heels a little. Wait 'till it all blows over."

Jim shook his head. "I _stole his car,_ Len. It's not gonna blow over." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gaila, Scotty and Hikaru pass them and disappeared down the next row of shuttles. "He's not gonna forget."

"Why does this sound to me like your stupid pride tryin' to get you killed again?" Len demanded. "For cryin' out loud, Jim, alls it takes is one broken beer bottle—"

"Len—" Jim tried to cut him off, glancing warily around at the others who he knew were listening.

"—and he could kill you," Len finished in a low whisper.

Jim was silent.

Then, from one row forward, came Gaila's shout.

"Guys! You gotta see this!"

Jim immediately dashed around Len and into the next row of shuttles where Gaila, Scotty and Hikaru were standing, open-mouthed, in front of a lone shuttle covered in yellow caution tape…

…with an enormous hole in its side.

Jim stared at the hole, wide-eyed, his mind racing, all thoughts of his stepfather gone from his mind.

The others ran up behind him.

"What is that?" Pavel whispered.

"It's the size of a watermelon," Scotty gaped.

"It's like somebody shot a cannon at it," Gaila said.

"What the heck happened?" Len demanded.

Jim turned, his eyes serious. "Romulans happened," he replied.

There was silence as Jim stared at his friends, and his friends stared back.

Then Pavel, standing at the end of the group, gasped. "What ees _that?"_

"Pavel, it's a hole in the shuttle," Len answered, shortly.

"Not that! _That!"_ Pavel pointed upward, his hazel eyes bigger than anyone had ever seen them.

Jim whirled around and looked where Pavel was pointing, just in time to see a gray, metal orb the size of a beach ball hovering into sight from behind the shuttle.

Jim froze. _A probe, _he thought.

The probe, humming like a bee as it hung in the air, rotated around to reveal on its other side a round, red sensor—like the iris of a giant eyeball.

It made a noise like a clicking camera shutter, rose a few more inches, and then shot off over the kids' heads to the east.

Jim instantly snapped out of his spell, turned and ran after it, followed closely by Spock and Nyota, then Gaila and Len, and then Pavel, Hikaru, Scotty, Christine and Janice.

The probe sped east over the rows of shuttles, toward the stone wall at the edge of the shipyard.

_The gate, _Jim thought, immediately.

He darted left toward the abandoned airstrip, turning sharply to the right when he reached it. He glanced back toward the probe, which had just turned toward the southeast, away from him.

_We won't make it on foot._

Sure enough, dead ahead there lay the enormous metal gate, and beside it a small control booth with a sleeping guard inside.

Jim leapt up and ran through the control booth, hitting as he passed a large, green button.

With an enormous groan, the gate began to slide open.

The sleeping guard jerked awake and jumped to his feet as ten elementary school children sprinted past the booth and out the gate.

Flustered, he shouted something about this being a restricted area, but they were long gone before he finished.

Len ran past the gate after Spock and Nyota just in time to see Jim suddenly turn in the opposite direction, sprinting away down the dirt road.

"What are you doing?" Len demanded, but Jim gave no answer.

Len kept running after the probe behind Spock and Nyota who were neck and neck, equally matched for speed.

_We can't keep up with it, _he thought, as his breath grew ragged, _we're gonna lose it. How—_

Len's thoughts were immediately cut off as a streak of bright red flew past after the probe, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake: Jim driving the convertible.

Len jogged to a stop next to Spock and Nyota, both of whom were breathing hard, watching as the convertible swerved sharply to the left down a dirt road adjacent to the shipyard.

"I sure hope…he doesn't…scratch it…" Len gasped.

Spock stared after the antique, and then glanced at Len. "The odds are not in his favor," he said, simply.

* * *

Jim cranked the wheel in the convertible as he made a hairpin left turn down the next dirt road, following the probe as fast as the car could go. The speedometer had climbed into the eighties…the nineties…over a hundred miles per hour.

He flipped on the high beams, shining a spotlight on the probe ahead of him.

_You're not getting away!_ he thought determined, _You're not, you're not, you're not—_

Jim's mantra was interrupted as a siren sounded from behind.

He glanced in the rearview window and caught sight of an MP squad car behind him, lights flashing, siren wailing.

His heart skipped a beat, but he focused back on the probe.

_I can't let it get away, _he thought, and floored the gas pedal.

The probe jerked sharply to the right over a large expanse of flat dirt, and Jim followed, busting through the wooden fence and racing after it. The squad car followed as well.

Suddenly the car phone rang, and instinctively Jim hit the answer button. His stepfather's voice rang out, yelling and furious:

"Hey, are you outta your mind? That car's an antique! You think you can get away with this just because your mom's off planet? You live in _my house_, buddy, and that's _my car!_ You get one scratch on that car, and I'm gonna whip your a—"

Jim switched off the phone and focused again on the probe as the squad car siren continued to wail.

He then glanced at the road ahead…

…and realized that it was about to end.

Instinct took over.

Jim unbuckled his seatbelt, cranked the steering wheel to the left, and launched himself out of the car, just as it hit the edge of the cliff and went over.

Jim hit the ground on his stomach and skidded toward the cliff, clawing desperately at the dirt.

He almost let out a scream of terror as his legs went over the edge, but a rush of adrenaline focused his energy on scrambling back up onto solid ground and rolling away to safety.

He lay there in the dirt for a moment, gasping and shaking, until the sounds of the siren and the squad car pulling up drew him back to reality.

He stood, taking a deep breath, facing the car as the MP, a stout, middle-aged woman in a red Starfleet uniform got out.

"What's your name, kid?" she asked.

Jim glanced back over his shoulder. The probe was nowhere to be seen.

"Kid. Your name," the MP repeated. "Don't make this difficult."

Jim looked back at her, looked her in the eye, and answered: "My name is James Tiberius Kirk!"

* * *

Commander Pike stood in the dining hall, a cup of coffee in hand, staring shocked at the nine children sitting on the bench in front of him, trying to explain to him what had happened—all at once.

"Quiet!" shouted the officer who'd brought them in, and the kids quieted down. The officer, Raymond Sterling, turned to Commander Pike and spoke: "I caught them running through the shuttle yard, Sir. They went out the back gate and ran down the southern road before I caught up with them. That's a restricted area, Sir, and they shouldn't've been back there."

"Nobody told us that!" piped up one of the boys, a skinny redhead with a Scottish accent.

"Yeah, and besides, _he_ was asleep at his post!" added a girl with green skin and bright red hair, shooting a glare at Sterling.

"Quiet, you," Sterling snapped, reddening.

"Mr. Sterling, let them speak," Pike told Sterling, sternly, "I'd like to hear their side of the story."

All of the kids started to speak at once, and Pike spoke up again: "_One at a time_, please! Now how did you get in here?"

One of the kids, a petite girl with white-blonde hair spoke up: "My mom is Doctor Chapel," she said, "She sometimes brings me and my friends here."

"You're Christine?" Pike asked.

The girl nodded.

"Mr. Sterling, would you please go get Doctor Chapel?" asked Pike.

"Sir, are you sure you want—" Sterling began, but Pike cut him off.

"Mr. Sterling, go get Doctor Chapel," Pike repeated, giving Sterling a significant look. "We'll have words later."

Sterling reddened again and saluted Pike, then turned and left.

Pike regarded the group of kids. "What were you doing wandering around the shuttles?" he asked them.

"We were looking for—" the petite girl began, but a tall, dark-haired boy interrupted her.

"Exploring," he answered.

Pike looked between the petite girl and the dark-haired boy, who were avoiding one another's eyes.

"Looking for what?" Pike asked.

Before any of them could answer, however, an irritated voice sounded at the end of the cafeteria:

"_Pike!"_

Pike let out a resigned sigh. _Kaddington._

"Yes, Luce?" he asked, turning around to face the Sheriff, who was glaring at him, her long dark hair pulled into a long, but loose and tangled braid.

"What the _hell_ is this?" Kaddington hissed at him, gesturing wildly at the row of kids. "I need your help setting up security detail for tomorrow and—"

"Watch your _language_, Luce," Pike warned her in a low voice, casting a quick glance at the kids, "Present company."

Kaddington looked quickly at the children, all of whom were watching her and Pike intently, and then pulled Pike aside.

"We can't deal with this right now, Pike, it's too much!" Kaddington whispered, looking ready to rip out a handful of her dark hair. _"What the hell happened?"_

"Sterling caught them wandering around the shuttle yard, Luce, I'm _handling_ it," Pike answered, calmly.

Kaddington gaped at him, her eyes growing wide. "Shit," she said.

"_Language,"_ Pike reminded her, through gritted teeth.

"Um… 'scuse me, Sir?" spoke up the petite blonde girl again, raising her hand.

Pike turned around. "Yes?"

"Are we in trouble?" the girl asked, her lower lip quivering and her enormous blue eyes worried.

Before Pike could reply, another voice sounded, this time from the cafeteria entrance.

"_This_ one is."

Pike turned to the entrance.

Standing the doorway was none other than Jim Kirk, straining against the grip of one of the MP officers, the boy's ice blue eyes staring right at him.

* * *

Two minutes earlier.

_Think, dangit, think!_ Jim's mind raced as the MP led him across the parking lot, her hand closed tightly around his upper arm, _How do I get out of this? I can't explain it to her—she'd never believe me. I gotta find the guys…_ His eyes widened as another idea came to him. A better idea. …_I gotta find Commander Pike._

He turned to the MP and said, quickly, "I need to speak to Commander Pike! Can you take me to him?"

The MP looked down at him and smirked. "You're not exactly in a position to be making demands, kid," she replied.

"It's important!" Jim protested, trying to walk more slowly to slow her down.

"Commander Pike is currently very busy, and he probably doesn't want to be bothered. If you _really_ want to see him, you can send him a message in a few days."

"But I have to talk to him now!"

The MP gave him a look, but before she could respond, a voice called out from nearby:

"Sal!"

Jim and the MP turned to see an officer approaching them from a building to the left—the cafeteria, Jim read off the sign above the doorway.

"What's going on, Ray?" the MP asked, amiably.

The officer frowned at Jim. "Was this guy wandering around the shuttle yard?"

The MP shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Well, I found a bunch of other kids wandering around there. Friends of Chapel's daughter. They're in there. Not enough room in the cell."

_In the cell? _Jim thought, apprehensively.

The officer jerked his thumb back at the cafeteria. "Listen, I gotta go. You might wanna take him in, Sal, see if the other kids know him."

"Hm," the MP said, "…thanks."

She started for the cafeteria door, Jim in tow.

As they drew near to the door, Jim heard Christine's unmistakable voice from the front of the long room:

"Are we in trouble?"

Jim and the MP entered the cafeteria. _"This_ one is," the MP said.

Jim looked to the front of the room, and his eyes went wide. Standing there, at the front of the room, looking right at him, was none other than Christopher Pike.

* * *

Pike stared at Kirk, speechless.

"Raymond Sterling pointed me in here," the MP told Pike, heading for the front of the room. "Told me there were some other kids in here who were at the shuttle yard. This guy was out by the quarry."

"What'd he do?" Kaddington asked, flatly.

"He drove a classic red convertible _into_ the quarry."

Pike's eyebrows went up in disbelief.

Kaddington threw her arms up in frustration. "Christ, Pike, we don't have time for this!" she burst out.

Pike ignored her and walked over to Kirk, stopping in front of him. "Officer, let him go," he said, softly.

The MP nodded once and stepped back, letting go of Kirk's arm.

At the front of the room, Kaddington crossed her arms and pursed her lips, glaring at Pike.

Pike looked intently at Kirk, and asked: "Why did you drive the car into the quarry?"

The boy looked up at Pike, his ice blue eyes defiant, and answered, "Because I saw a probe."

* * *

Jim paused, waiting for Commander Pike's reaction. When Pike didn't respond, he continued.

Jim told Pike everything, explaining about the monster in the woods, about sneaking into the Russian Embassy, about the Romulan in the cornfield on Halloween, and about the probe in the shuttle yard.

For the most part, Pike didn't interrupt, except to shush the Sheriff, who every minute or so made some noise of skepticism, and tapped her foot impatiently on foot.

"And that's it," Jim finished, "the probe led me toward the quarry, and there wasn't time to stop, so I jumped."

"What makes you think what you saw was a probe?" Pike asked.

"Well," Jim answered, "I've seen pictures of Starfleet probes. And this one looked a lot like one of those, you know, with the red sensor except it was round, and it hovered."

Pike nodded, and bent down to look Jim in the eye.

"Okay," he began, "Listen. Here's what I'm going to do."

Jim's eyes widened. _A plan, finally!_ he thought, his heart leaping.

"We're gonna call your friends' and your parents, and we're gonna make sure that you guys get home safe," Pike said. "And I want you to keep out of restricted areas from now on, all right?"

Jim's heart sunk.

His face fell as Pike got up and started to walk away.

"Commander, _wait!"_ he shouted, starting after him, but the MP stepped forward and grabbed his arm again. He strained against her grip, yelling after Pike: "You gotta believe me! They're here, and they're gonna sabotage the negotiations! _You can't just do nothing!"_

Pike whispered something to the Sheriff on his way out of the cafeteria.

"You have to _do_ something!" Jim yelled, but Pike was out the door.

The Sheriff stepped forward, glaring at Jim, her dark hair askew about her face.

"Pipe down, kid," she growled, "You've wasted enough of our time as it is. Now what is your phone number?"

"Go to hell," Jim spat. "I'm the least of your problems."

She bent forward, so that her face was barely an inch from his.

"I can make things very difficult for you," she said, sharply, "Remember you were driving a vehicle without a license, not to mention property damage of that same vehicle, and trespassing on state grounds. Now I'm going to call your friends' parents, and ask them to come pick them up. When I'm done, I'll want your phone number. Think about it."

She straightened up and left the room, and the MP took Jim and sat him down on one of the cafeteria benches.

Jim stared at the floor, speechless.

_They didn't believe me, _he thought, numbly …_And it was all going so well…_

* * *

Faced with potential trespassing charges, the kids surrendered their phone numbers to the MP, the Sheriff's deputy and two other officers, who called their parents to come and pick them up. As promised, when one of the officers had finished with the kids, he went to Jim and asked for his phone number.

Jim, furious but not wanting to face charges, gave it.

_I'm gonna get beaten up anyways, _he thought, _better just that than that and the law behind it._

When Jim's stepfather didn't answer, the officer who'd called shot him a look.

Jim replied, coolly, "He's a really deep sleeper."

The officer merely nodded. "We'll have to give you a ride home."

"Too much of a troublemaker to deal with here, huh?" Jim asked him.

The officer didn't reply.

* * *

At eight o' clock, the parents showed up.

All of them were, to a degree, angry. Doctor Chapel and Yeoman Rand were shocked and mortified to find that their daughters had agreed to lead their friends through the restricted areas of the shipyard. Gaila's and Nyota's parents were furious that the two girls had agreed to go with Christine and Janice to said areas. The boys' parents were angry that they had lied about where they were going for the night.

All of the kids wore the same flush of shame as they were lectured by their parents…but none more so than Spock.

When his mother entered the cafeteria, she walked straight over to one of the officers and explained how sorry she was that this had happened and that Spock was never going to do it again—she'd be sure of it.

The officer she spoke to, a young man with blond hair and freckles, frowned when she pointed Spock out as her son.

"His father isn't here?" he asked her.

Spock's mother shook her head. "He's preparing for an important meeting tomorrow. I'm sorry he couldn't come."

The officer looked between her and Spock, still confused. "Ma'am, are you Vulcan?" he questioned.

Spock's mother's lips tightened and she regarded the officer coolly, but her voice was as civil as ever: "No. Spock is half Vulcan. I am human."

The officer glanced at Spock, who nodded solemnly.

The officer then looked back at Spock's mother. "Okay," he said, simply.

Spock's mother pursed her lips and walked over to her son, who stood.

"Mother," he began, but she cut him off.

"Spock," she began in a low serious voice, "Listen to me. I am not in any mood to listen to excuses. We are going home, and you are going straight to bed. We will discuss this with your father tomorrow." She took her son by the wrist and started to lead him from the room.

"But Mother, I—"

"No, Spock," she told him, quietly, "Listen to me. Your father has to be up at five a.m. tomorrow to get to the embassy at six. We are going home, _now."_

Spock froze in mid-step. "A meeting? At the embassy?" he asked.

A few feet away, standing in front of her angry parents, Nyota looked up and over at Spock, whose eyes were wide.

Jim, from his seat on the cafeteria bench, had heard as well.

"Spock, we don't have time for this, now come on," Spock's mother told him, and led him from the room.

As he was pulled through the cafeteria entrance, Spock looked back at Jim, catching his eye.

Neither boy had to say anything to know what the other meant.

* * *

After Spock left, the other parents began to take their kids home.

As Len was led out the door by his grandmother ("No more cookies for _you_, young man!"), he sent a panicked look back at Jim.

Jim had no time to give a confident, reassuring look in response, before Len disappeared from view.

He recalled their conversation before the shuttle yard. It felt like it had happened an eternity ago.

_Well, I'm hoping he'll be too drunk to notice. Or passed out._

_And if he's not?_

…_I'll deal with it._

The MP from earlier came up behind Jim and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, kid. Time to go," she said.

Jim took a deep breath and stood, allowing the MP to take his arm again, and following her back to her squad car, leaving behind a cold, silent cafeteria.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later: The house at the end of Derby Drive.

Jim glanced out of the window of the squad car to the old, crumbling farm house. His heart sunk as he caught sight of the TV lights, flickering in the grimy window.

The MP opened his door and let him out, taking him by the arm and leading him past the broken gate and up to the scratched, peeling door.

She knocked twice.

The sounds of the TV stopped.

There were footsteps in the hallway, and the sound of a turning lock, and then the door swung open, revealing Frank, his cold, grey eyes bloodshot and a tissue held in front of his mouth and nose.

"Officer," he said, pinching the tissue and giving a hearty blow. "Sorry. Gotta cold."

The MP nodded once, and explained succinctly and factually what Jim had done, and that he had gotten off lucky this time but such behavior was not to be tolerated in the future.

Frank, throughout the MP's explanation, nodded, listened, and kept an expression of seriousness on his face, and his mouth shut.

When she finished, Frank started to cough, and put his tissue up to his mouth.

"Thanks, Officer," he managed to get out, and he took Jim by the arm and pulled him inside, "Won't happen again."

And as the MP turned and started back toward the squad car, Frank swung the door shut and locked it, his hand resting on the lock.

He stood between Jim and the rest of the hallway, waiting as he heard the squad car start up, and drive away.

As soon as all was once more silent, Frank lowered the tissue from his mouth and put it into his pocket. It was perfectly clean.

"…_So,"_ he hissed at Jim, and Jim nearly recoiled as he smelled the alcohol on his stepfather's breath.

He glanced to his right, to see that the hand resting on the lock was quivering with rage.

Jim met Frank's wild, bloodshot eyes, and realized that his stepfather was completely and totally out of his mind drunk.

"…So."

Frank's hands shot forward and grabbed Jim by the collar, picking him up and launching him into the hallway.

Jim flew a good five feet before crashing hard to the floor. Pain exploded up his arm and he saw, hidden in the adjacent hallway, several empty beer bottles and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Jim started to scramble backward.

Frank lunged forward and grabbed Jim by the ankle, yanking him back and then pulling him roughly to his feet, slamming him against the wall.

"Ya like that?" Frank demanded, as Jim felt a dull burst of pain shake his skull. "Huh? This is what ya get when you destroy other people's _property!"_

He threw Jim to the floor again, and Jim felt his head crack against the hardwood.

Dizzily, his heart racing, he tried to scramble backwards again. His hand slipped on something sharp and he heard the sound of breaking glass. He could barely see—the room was spinning out of control.

Then Frank's fist swung out of nowhere and slammed into Jim's eye.

Instinctively, Jim kicked out, _hard._ He heard the sickening crunch of Frank's nose breaking, and then a bellow of pain.

Jim pushed himself to his feet and ran into the kitchen, just before something hard and heavy crashed against his back.

Jim slipped on the linoleum floor and landed on his side, and the air rushed out of his lungs.

He could see Frank getting to his feet in the kitchen doorway, picking up one of the beer bottles.

"_Come here you little bastard!"_ he roared, staggering wildly into the kitchen and hurling the bottle at Jim.

Jim dodged and heard the bottle shatter behind him as he stumbled into the living room, tripping backward over the coffee table and landing against the couch—cornered.

He heard Frank's heavy footsteps and the crunch of broken glass as his stepfather lumbered out of the kitchen and toward Jim, blood pouring down his face from his shattered nose, the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand. He took a swig from the bottle and staggered forward a step, his eyes wild.

Jim's heart pounded harder than ever. There was nowhere to run—nowhere to go.

Frank raised the bottle above his head. Jim braced himself.

Suddenly Frank stopped. He stared at Jim, his eyes bulging, swaying slightly.

Then his eyes rolled up inside his head, and he fell backwards and out of sight.

There was a heavy thud, the clink of glass on hardwood, and then silence.

Shaking, Jim slowly got to his feet and began to step forward, around the coffee table and past the leather lazy boy chair, to see Frank lying on his back, his eyes shut, out cold.

Hardly daring to breathe, Jim edged past his unconscious stepfather and into the hallway, slowly and quietly moving toward the door.

His hand brushed the lock, and he turned it.

Then, quick as lightning, he turned the doorknob, flung open the door, and ran without looking back.

* * *

Len's house, upstairs, Len's room.

Len wanted to scream.

His grandparents had gone to bed, having given him a brief lecture on his safety and how important it was for them to be able to trust him. He could hear them snoring in the master bedroom down the hall.

He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, trying to think, praying that Jim's stepfather was too drunk to move…but in the meantime, what was Len supposed to do?

He resisted the urge to throw something across the wall in frustration.

_Dangit, _he thought, furiously. He dropped his hands to his sides.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to go to Jim's house and get him out himself.

He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and put it on, then took his sneakers and started to lace them up. He rummaged around in his desk drawers until he found his flashlight and tucked it into one of his belt loops. Lastly, he grabbed the first aid kit hanging by his bed and looped the strap over his shoulder.

Then he started for the door.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a soft _chink_—the sound of a pebble hitting glass.

Slowly he turned to face the window across the room.

_Chink_.

Another pebble bounced off the window.

Len's heart nearly dropped into his stomach. _Jim_.

In a flash he crossed the room, threw open the window and looked down to see Jim standing on the front lawn, waving up at him.

Even in the dim light, Len could see that Jim was having difficulty moving his arm, and that someone—three guesses who—had given him a black eye.

Len gave Jim a silent nod and pulled his head back into the room, turning and heading downstairs as quietly as possible.

He crossed the living room and opened the front door to see Jim standing on his doorstep, beaten bloody, breathing hard.

"Len," Jim gasped, sounding as if he had just run all the way there.

"That _jerk_," Len hissed, taking Jim by the arm and pulling him inside. "_That jerk!_ He should go jump off the Empire State Building, and then rot in hell for all etern—"

"Len!" Jim grabbed Len by the shoulder, wide-eyed, "We have to start the beacons."

"What? Jim, you just got beaten senseless—" Len began, but Jim cut him off.

"Len, _listen,"_ Jim said, looking Len in the eye, "It's the negotiations. They're tomorrow."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

For a moment, all was silent.

Len gaped at Jim, his eyes wide.

Then, slowly, he closed his mouth, nodded, and shut the door behind Jim.

"Okay," he began, "We'll start the beacons. But first, we gotta get you patched up."

"Len—" Jim protested.

"I am _not_ letting you beat up Romulans lookin' like that, Jim," Len told him flatly, _"Sit."_

Jim opened his mouth to protest again, but caught sight of the look on Len's face and slowly closed it.

"Okay," he said, and sat down on the living room couch.

There were some arguments with Len you just didn't win.

* * *

Xena Apartment Complex, upstairs, Spock's room.

Spock was sitting in the dark, fully clothed, waiting.

Spock's father had already fallen asleep by the time he and his mother had gotten home. The moment they had arrived, his mother had sent him straight to bed, and then decided to go to bed herself.

It had been forty-five minutes since she had done so, and Spock was waiting for her to fall asleep.

Usually his mother would fall asleep in twenty minutes or less, but it had been a very stressful evening for her, and it was likely that she had a lot to think about.

Spock shifted slightly. He wanted to get up and proceed with his plan, but forced himself to stay put, at least for a few more minutes. He could not afford to get caught.

His watch ticked away four long, painful minutes before he decided it was safe to move.

Quietly he got out of bed, put on his shoes, and tied them. He took off the edge of his desk a small backpack and packed inside it his radio, his tricorder, a flashlight, two energy bars, and a bottle of water.

He then went to his closet and took out several random articles of clothing, taking them off their hangers, wadding them up, and stuffing them down beneath his bedcovers, which he pulled up past the edge of his pillow.

He hid the hangers under the bed and put on a sweater, a jacket, and his wool beanie from his first few days at school.

He then went to the bedroom door.

He took a deep breath, and slowly turned the handle.

The door opened quietly to reveal the dark hallway, and Spock slowly stepped through the doorway and to the left.

He took one step then two, then—

_Creeeeeeak…_

He froze as his foot came down on the floorboards, holding his breath, straining to hear anything from his parents' room down the hall.

…Nothing.

Breathing as slowly as he could, Spock stepped forward again and made his way quietly into the living room and over to the glass door to the balcony—and the fire escape.

He stood before the door, glanced back down the hall, and then turned the lock, slid the door open, and stepped out into the cool night air, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Noonien Avenue, Nyota's house, Nyota's room.

Nyota was sitting on the floor in the dark, still dressed in the clothes she'd worn to the shipyard, trying to be as quiet as possible as her parents argued loudly downstairs.

Sitting in front of her was her radio, tuned to the Starfleet frequency, the volume at its lowest setting.

Nyota bent toward the speaker, straining her ears, trying to focus on the sound coming from the radio and to block out all other noise.

Her heart pounded as the random messages flew through her mind.

"_Lieutenant Sparks, you are clear for landing."_

"_Attention all cadets: Report to the flight deck now."_

_Come on, Spock, _she thought, _come on._

With a sinking heart, she began to wonder if he had been caught, but then she heard it—faint behind the noise of all the other voices but there nonetheless—a distant series of short and long beeps: Morse code.

Nyota listened, spelling out the message in her mind: NYOTA. NEGOTIATIONS TOMORROW. MEET AT PLAYGROUND TONIGHT. START BEACONS.

Then the beeping stopped.

Nyota took a deep breath and zipped up Spock's jacket.

* * *

Sitting on the fire escape, Spock leaned in close to his radio, listening for a response. Soon enough, it came:

OK. SEE YOU THERE.

Spock turned off his radio, put it into his backpack, and started quietly down the fire escape.

* * *

Nyota slung the bag containing her radio over her shoulder and leaned out the window over her bed, looking out across the street to Gaila's house.

She picked up the flashlight off her bedside table and shined it at Gaila's bedroom window.

A few seconds passed, and then Gaila appeared in the window.

Nyota started signaling, moving her hand in and out of the flashlight's beam:

NEGOTIATIONS TOMORROW. MEET AT PLAYGROUND NOW. PASS IT ON.

From the other side of the street, Gaila nodded and disappeared from view for a few seconds, then reappeared with a flashlight of her own, and signaled back:

SEE YOU OUTSIDE. FIVE MINUTES.

Gaila then turned to Bay Road and started signaling Christine, and Nyota stuck her flashlight into her bag, and moved toward her bedroom door.

She listened for any movement in the hall and, hearing none, opened the door and walked into the hallway, turning left to head down the stairs and nearly running into her older sister, Etana.

Nyota's heart nearly stopped. She froze in place, her eyes widening as Etana gave her a bemused smile.

"Aren't you grounded?" she asked Nyota.

"I'm—" Nyota stuttered, "I—I was—I have to—" She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Etana," she said, "…I have to go somewhere. It's really, really important, and if I don't go, I don't know what will happen. Please don't tell Mom and Dad. Please?"

Etana's smile widened as Nyota peered down the stairs, searching for her arguing parents.

"Don't worry. They took it out back," Etana said. She took her sister by the shoulders. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I'll cover for ya."

Nyota breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she whispered, and hugged Etana tightly. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"You going with somebody?" Etana asked.

"Gaila," Nyota said.

Etana nodded. "Good. Tough or not, I'm not letting you go anyplace alone. Here, take this with you." She took a small metal cylinder out of her pocket and handed it to Nyota. "If anybody comes at you, spray it in their eyes and run and scream as loud as you can. Got it?"

Nyota nodded.

"Go get 'em," Etana said, grinning.

Nyota hugged her sister again, then hurried down the stairs, out the front door, and into the street where Gaila was waiting for her.

"What took you so long?" Gaila asked her, frowning, as Nyota hurried over.

"Nothing, just…getting something taken care of," Nyota answered.

And with that, the two girls started off for the playground.

* * *

Just after Nyota and Gaila left for the playground, from the house on the corner of Bay Road and Arbor Street, there could be seen flashing lights shining from the top corner window of the house to the house just behind it, and then moments later off toward the house on the corner of Arbor Street and Willow Road.

Minutes later, the front door of the house on Bay Road opened, and Christine exited, beaming and skipping off down the street to get Pavel. And at the same time, on Willow Road, two windows from two separate houses slid shut, and Hikaru and Janice stepped out and started for the playground.

* * *

Len's house, the living room.

Jim sat in silence as Len grimly wrapped a bandage around his bleeding hand, then cut it and added over it a length of medical tape to keep it in place.

Len stood up. " 'Kay," he said, "That's it. I don't think anything's broken, but you'll wanna be careful. At least…" he hesitated, "…at least after this is over."

Jim nodded, standing as well. "All right," he said, "We gotta get the word out to everyone. You have a flashlight handy, right?"

"Yes, it's upstairs, I—" Len broke off in midsentence and looked out the living room back window as a beam of light from the house behind his briefly illuminated the back lawn.

Len looked back at Jim, who had seen it too.

"Christine," they said together, and made for the stairs.

Sure enough, when they reached Len's room, a steady beam of light was already shining through the window. Len, as quietly as possible, took his flashlight off his bedside table and went to the window, sending back a response.

A moment later, he stuck his head back into the window, grimacing.

"What, too cute for you?" Jim whispered, grinning.

"Shaddup," Len answered, rolling his eyes. "We gotta call Scotty."

He grabbed his jacket, his med kit, and his flashlight and the two boys started for the stairs.

* * *

Derby Drive, Scotty's house, Scotty's room.

Scotty was wide awake and starving. He sat on his bed, fully clothed, the dirt launcher sitting next to him and his stomach rumbling loudly for the dinner he'd been denied when he got home, wishing that his friends would declare some emergency and meet at the playground. At least _there_ there would be food.

He glanced out the window at the dark street, the memory of his milkshake now focused in his mind when—

_Riiiiing._

Scotty's food fantasy was cut short as he heard, from his brother's room next door, the one ring he'd been hoping to hear all night: the ring that meant that his friends had started the beacons.

Quickly he got up and crept out into the hall and then pushed open his brother's door.

_Riiiing._

Scotty swallowed and took a step forward. A floorboard creaked, but his brother remained fast asleep.

_Riiiing._

Scotty's heart gave a leap of panic and in two more quick steps he crossed the room and picked up the phone, hitting the on button as he quietly crept toward the door.

"Scotty," came Len's voice, "the negotiations are tomorrow. Everyone's meeting at the playground right now. Don't bother getting Jim—he's already here. Bring the dirt launcher."

Scotty stepped into the hall, his heart pounding with excitement. "You got it," he answered, and hung up, heading for his room to arm himself.

* * *

Jim zipped up his jacket against the cold night breeze and pointed his flashlight out in front of him.

He was heading down Arbor Street toward the playground at a slight limp, Len walking beside him.

"You gonna tell 'em?" Len asked him, glancing at Jim's black eye.

Jim shook his head. "We've got bigger problems to worry about," he said as they walked past Farmer Barrett's house.

Len frowned. "They'll ask. Not all of 'em, but some. Gaila will. Spock will. What are you gonna tell 'em?"

Jim shrugged. "Not to worry about me."

They fell silent, and the playground came into view. Nyota, Gaila, Janice and Hikaru were sitting on several wooden crates and old tires, talking. Upon sighting Jim and Len, all of them stood and ran over.

"Jim!"

"Len!"

"What's going on?"

"Oh my God, what happened to you?"

"Was it another Romulan?"

"What's happening?"

"Is it the negotiations?"

"Where's Spock?"

Jim looked up at his friends, holding up a hand.

Silence fell.

"Once everyone gets here," he said. "Nyota. Have you filled these three in?"

Nyota shook her head. "I was about to tell Hikaru."

"Ok. Where are the others?" Jim asked.

"Right here!" came a voice from behind, and Jim, Len and the others turned to see Christine and Pavel jogging over.

"Hi, Leonard!" Christine waved frantically as she ran over.

Len grimaced. "Hi, Christine."

"Scotty?" Jim asked, looking around.

"Not here yet," Gaila answered.

"Oh yes I am," came Scotty's thick brogue from the opposite end of the playground.

The kids turned to see Scotty running over, the dirt launcher strung around his scrawny chest with an old guitar strap, and a gray bucket in one hand.

"I sure hope one of ye brought food," Scotty said, "I'm starvin'. They didn't give me dinner."

"Here," Len said, tossing Scotty the brown paper bag he'd carried over from his house.

Scotty's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked, opening the bag. "IT IS! Chocolate chip bagels, ha ha!" He pulled a bagel out of the bag and took a hefty bite.

Jim looked around the group, counting. _Seven, eight, nine. Spock?_

"Where's Spock?" he asked, turning to Nyota.

Nyota bit her lip.

"What?" Jim asked.

Nyota looked Jim in the eye. "He lives on the other side of town. We never figured out how he was gonna get here after we started the beacons."

Silence fell.

Jim stared at the ground for a moment, thinking. Then he nodded. "All right," he said, "We have to start planning. Spock will figure something out on his own."

"I already have," came a familiar, calm voice.

Jim turned to see Spock standing at the edge of the playground.

"What took you so long?" Len asked.

Spock walked over, dusting something bright and glittery off his sleeves. "Hitch-hiking, I believe it is called. I do not plan on doing so again."

Jim grinned. "Glad you could make it," he said, turning as Spock walked around him to stand next to Nyota.

"Right," Jim said, "here's the plan."

* * *

Jim's eyes cracked open in the early morning gloom as he felt someone tapping his arm and heard a voice speaking quietly:

"Jim. Wake up."

Jim blinked and sat up in the driver's seat of the red antique car to find Len sitting next to him.

Len's dark eyes turned to the east, where a dull glow could be seen on the horizon.

"It's time," Len said.

Jim looked around at the other antique cars, where his sleeping friends were.

"Rock n' roll," he answered, turning around to tap a snoring Scotty on the shoulder.

* * *

As the others awoke and started to get ready to go, Jim took Len and Scotty with him to arrange transportation, leaving Spock in charge.

The glow on the eastern horizon had grown since they'd left.

Jim and Len walked at a quick pace while Scotty lagged behind a few steps, carrying with him a heavy bucket of dirt.

"Scotty, hurry up," Len hissed, "Why'd you have to bring that with you?"

"I'm sorry, ok?" Scotty said, defensively, "I'm jes' bein' cautious."

"Guys, be quiet," Jim told them in a low voice, "we don't wanna wake anybody."

A minute later, they reached Len's house.

" 'Kay," Len said, turning to Jim and Scotty as he reached the front door, "Wait here for a sec." Slowly he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Scotty put his bucket down and took a step back, looking up at the front of Len's house. "I'm hungry," he announced, "Are you hungry, Jim?"

Jim didn't answer but crossed and uncrossed his arms, taking a deep breath. _Come on, Len, _he thought.

Just then came the rumble of something very large and heavy being pushed aside on wheels—the garage door.

Jim and Scotty ran off the porch to the front of the garage where Len was standing, grinning a tad sheepishly, before a small, orange car with rounded headlights and a metal peace sign on the grill.

"Here it is," Len announced, holding up the keys.

Jim cocked his head to one side, a bemused look on his face. "…Kinda small, Len, don'tcha think?"

"Well…" Len began, shrugging.

"What about the truck?" Jim asked, gesturing to Len's grandpa's pickup, which was parked on the street.

"It's out of gas." Len grimaced. "Um…I don't exactly know how we're gonna fit ten people into this…"

"Are ye kidding?" Scotty asked, "That's a 2058 Volkswagen! They used tae jam twenty adults into these things! It was a sport."

He glanced at Len and Jim, then grinned. "Shotgun!"

Jim and Len exchanged glances.

Jim smiled slightly, shrugged, and headed for the driver's seat.

Len sighed and ran to get the bucket, unlocking the car as he did and tossing the keys to Jim.

Jim opened the driver's seat door and sat down, grasping the steering wheel and turning the key in the ignition as Len jumped into the back seat and Scotty into the front.

The engine rumbled to life.

Jim reached for the gas pedal, and his foot felt nothing but empty air.

He looked down and found that his feet were about a foot back too far.

"Guys, help me adjust the seat," he said, searching for the lever that would allow the seat to move forward.

"Why is the seat so far back?" Scotty asked.

"Crap, I forgot," Len groaned, "My grandpa just used this car. You guys know how tall he is."

"Never mind, just help me," Jim told Len, looking down the side of the seat. "Where's the lever?"

"In front," Len answered, "It's under the seat—no, further. There." He pushed on the driver's seat, trying to make it move forward. "Scotty, give us a hand here!"

"It's stuck!" Scotty grunted as he tried to pull the seat forward, "I can't move it."

"Okay, wait a sec!" Jim said, "On three. One, two—"

He froze, as above him he heard a creak in the ceiling—the creak of someone stepping out of bed onto the floor.

"Oh crap—my grandpa!" Len whispered.

"I thought he was hard of hearing!" Scotty hissed.

"That's my grandma!" Len shot back.

"We don't have time for this," Jim said, "Scotty, work the gas and brakes."

"Right!" Scotty answered, getting down on his hands and knees and placing his hand on the gas. "Ready."

"Hurry up!" Len whispered, looking up at the ceiling of the car as more footsteps sounded above.

Jim put the car in gear and took off the parking brake. "Gas, Scotty," he said.

Len leaned forward from the back seat. "Buckle your—AAAAUGH!"

The Volkswagen shot forward out of the garage and Len was thrown against the back seat.

"BRAKE!" Jim shouted, and Scotty slammed his hand down on the brake. The Volkswagen screeched to a halt, and Len was thrown forward.

"_You drive like a loony!"_ he gasped.

"Sorry," Scotty apologized, weakly.

"Gas, but _easy_ this time!" Jim told Scotty, buckling his seatbelt.

In the back, Len hastily did the same.

Slowly, the Volkswagen began to move again, and Jim turned the car onto the street.

* * *

Back at the playground, Spock glanced out at Farmer Barrett's cornfield and yawned, blinking.

"Don't do that," Nyota said, stepping up beside him, "Yawns are c-c-contagious." She covered her mouth, yawning loudly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not see how it is possible for a yawn to be contagious," he said, "as it is a reflex, not a—a…" he trailed off, yawning again, "…sickness."

Nyota smiled. "Told ya!" she said, "When are Jim, Len and Scotty getting back? Everyone's ready to go."

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, listening.

Nyota heard as well and turned toward the road.

"I believe they have returned," Spock said, just as a small, orange car emerged from behind Farmer Barrett's house, coming to a jerky halt before the playground.

Spock and Nyota could see Jim in the driver's seat, Len in the back, and a pair of feet sticking up in the passenger's seat.

"_That's_ our ride?" Nyota asked, frowning, heading over to the car.

Spock raised an eyebrow and followed.

* * *

Jim leaned out of the driver's seat window just after Scotty hit the brakes, as Spock and Nyota, followed by the others, ran over from the playground.

"Is this our ride?" Gaila asked, raising her eyebrows.

"It would appear so," Spock said.

"Yep," Jim confirmed with a nod.

From the back seat, Len gave a sheepish smile. "It's my grandma's."

"Spock, what time is it?" Jim asked.

Spock checked his watch. "It is five fifty-five."

Jim grimaced. "We're late. C'mon, guys, we gotta go!"

"How are we all gonna fit?" Hikaru frowned, "Face it, Jim, the car's _tiny."_

"Hey, they used tae fit twenty grown-ups into these things!" Scotty announced, emerging from beneath the steering wheel, "This here's a 2058 Volkswagen bug!"

Spock cocked his head to the side. "It does bear as light resemblance to an insect," he remarked.

"That's a beetle," Scotty told him.

Gaila stepped up to the passenger's seat and peered inside.

"Not bad, for an old lady car," she shrugged, and opened the door. "Shotgun!"

"Pavel, I need you up front to navigate," Jim called and Pavel nodded, squeezing in next to Gaila.

The others piled into the back, Len sliding over to the window seat, followed by Christine, Nyota, Spock, Janice and Hikaru.

"Whoa!" Hikaru said, trying and failing to shut the door, "Scoot over, guys."

Christine beamed and stood for a moment before settling down into Len's lap.

"Seatbelts, guys?" Jim asked, glancing back around the seat and grinning at Len.

"Oh, we're past this thing's weight capacity anyways, Jim, just drive!" Len snapped, glaring back.

Jim's grin widened and he started to turn around when a sound caught his ear: the familiar wail of a nearby police siren.

His grin faded. The sound was coming from the residential area, growing louder.

Grim now, Jim turned around and gripped the steering wheel.

"Scotty, get us out of here," he said.

"With pleasure," Scotty answered and pressed on the gas, just as a Riverside Police squad car emerged from around the corner of Bay Road.

The Volkswagen jerked forward and was off.

"Pavel, where to?" Jim asked, turning sharply onto Derby Drive, causing everyone to lurch to the side as he did.

Pavel leaned across Gaila and answered: "You have to take the next street left to get onto Main Street. The Embassy ees—"

"Tap the brakes, Scotty!" Jim interrupted as he turned left. "Go ahead, Pavel."

"—toward the center of town, through a lot of traffic," Pavel answered, "But I know a faster way. Turn right here!"

Jim turned the wheel to the right onto Main Street without giving Scotty time to brake and the Volkswagen lurched dangerously to the left.

In the back seat, Len glanced over his shoulder to see the squad car emerging onto Main Street just two blocks behind them.

"Jim, they're gaining!" he warned.

"Pavel, where next?" Jim glanced at the rearview window—sure enough, the squad car was starting to close the gap between it and the Volkswagen.

"Through the next light and then left on Stewart!" Pavel answered.

"I don't feel so good," announced Christine from the back seat.

Len, who'd twisted himself around to look at the squad car again, groaned. "Christine, _now is not the time!"_

"Yeah, she's not the only one," Hikaru added, putting a hand over his mouth, "I think I'm gonna puke."

"NOT NOW!" Len screeched.

Jim, trying to focus through the din in the back seat, looked to the light up ahead.

It turned yellow.

Jim's heart plummeted into his stomach.

"Scotty, faster!" he said, gripping the wheel tightly.

"Jim, we gotta hurry!" Len called, looking nervously between Jim and the squad car.

"Scotty, we really need to get out of here!" Jim said, loudly.

"Ay, I'm a half inch off the floor!" Scotty protested.

"Jim, look out!" Gaila shouted, pointing to a boxy car with a small, wrinkled old lady inside, attempting to merge lanes in front of the Volkswagen.

"FLOOR IT, SCOTTY!" Jim screamed.

"I'M GIVIN' HER ALL SHE'S GOT, JIM!" Scotty screeched back.

The Volkswagen shot forward through the intersection just as the light turned red, and Jim slammed his hand down on the horn all the way through.

The kids heard a loud _crunch_ and looked back to see that the squad car had been hit from the side by a large pickup truck.

Christine put her hands over her mouth. "I hope the driver's okay," she said, wide-eyed.

There was a half second of silence and then Pavel shrieked, "TURN LEFT HERE!"

Jim jerked the steering wheel to the left and the Volkswagen lurched again, this time to the right.

"Yep," Hikaru mumbled, "I'm definitely gonna puke."

"Left again on No-Name Road," Pavel told Jim, "And follow it around to Cardassian Street. The Embassy is on the right."

"Slow it down a little, Scotty," Jim said, and Scotty eased up on the gas. He took a deep breath, looking forward. "And if anybody has to puke, open the window."

* * *

Minutes later, the Volkswagen pulled up in front of the Russian Embassy.

Jim got out of the driver's seat as Pavel jumped out on the passenger's side, followed immediately by Gaila and Scotty. Hikaru stumbled from the back and promptly threw up on the dark green, manicured lawn.

"_Nice_, lad," Scotty told him, slinging the dirt launcher over his shoulder. "You okay?"

Hikaru nodded, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You drive like my grandpa on his bad days," he said in a hoarse laugh.

Spock and Nyota then got out of the car, and finally Christine and Len, carrying the bucket of dirt.

All eyes turned to Jim, waiting.

"Right," Jim said, "Pavel. Get us in."

* * *

Pavel led Jim and the others to the small side gate and tested the door handle. It was locked.

He bit his lip and called out: "Mr. Arkady! Mr. Arkady! Please, Sir, we need to get in!"

He peered through the wrought iron bars of the small shed across the grass, shouting again: _"Mr. Arkady!"_

"What, _what?"_ demanded Arkady's gruff voice, and the old man stepped out from between two hedge bushes to the left of the gate, frowning and adjusting the dial on his sight aid.

His bristly eyebrows went up as he caught sight of the group of kids. "Pavel?" he asked.

"Da, Sir!" Pavel answered, "We need to get into the embassy!"

"I can't let anyone in today, now what are you doing here?" Arkady demanded.

"Please, it's important!" Pavel told him, clutching at the bars of the gate. "We need to get in."

"I told you I can't let anyone in. Today of all days is no day for a tour," Arkady answered gruffly, "How did you get here all by yourself, boy?"

"Mr. Arkady, _please!"_ Pavel cried, "Something terrible is going to happen if we don't get in."

Arkady stared at Pavel. Slowly, he shook his head and started to walk away.

"We know about the negotiations!" Pavel shouted.

Arkady stopped in his tracks and turned around.

He was silent for a moment, then he spoke: "I don't know how you know about that, Pavel, but if you do, you know I can't let you in. Not today."

Pavel, in desperation, switched to Russian: _"Romulans are here! The negotiators are in danger! People are going to die!"_

Arkady's brow furrowed. Slowly, his grimace loosened, and his expression became unreadable. He looked to his left, twisting the dial on his sight aid. He looked back at Pavel, and then at Scotty and Len. His bristly eyebrows went up as he caught sight of the bucket and the dirt launcher.

"What's in that bucket, boy?" he demanded of Len.

Len, taken aback, looked between Arkady and the bucket. "It's dirt," he answered, "Just…dirt."

The old man hesitated for a moment, then nodded once and stepped forward, unlocking the gate and letting Pavel and the others in.

* * *

Arkady froze as Pavel switched to Russian and shouted: _"Romulans are here! The negotiators are in danger! People are going to die!"_

He frowned.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something on the grass—a set of footprints.

Arkady's stomach clenched. It was the fifth one he'd seen on the grounds that morning—he had assumed that they belonged to someone taking a walk in the gardens. It hadn't occurred to him to check the footprints' heat signature…

He reached to his visor and turned the dial to thermal.

His blood ran cold.

The footprints, compared with Arkady's own body, stood white-hot against the grass, while the air above the footprints shimmered bright with heat exuded from the person who had left them.

He looked back at the children, raising his eyebrows as he caught sight of two boys carrying a bucket and some sort of gun.

"What's in that bucket, boy?" he demanded.

The boy looked between Arkady and the bucket. "It's dirt," he answered, "Just…dirt."

Arkady fell silent. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded and began to unlock the gate.

* * *

Jim stepped up behind Pavel as Pavel thanked the old groundskeeper for letting them in.

He was about to speak when the old man looked up, nodding to Scotty and asking, "That thing shoot dirt, boy?"

Scotty looked between the dirt launcher and the old man, his mouth gaping open slightly. "Uh—"

"Yes," Jim answered for him, "Can you tell us where there are planters inside? Flower beds and stuff?"

The old man nodded and, to Jim's surprise, answered without hesitation: "There are a few along each wall, but there are more in the northeast corner of the building on the first floor."

"Thanks," Jim answered. "C'mon, Pavel!"

"Wait a moment!" the old man called after them, and Pavel and Jim stopped in their tracks. The old man hurried quickly into his shed, then reappeared a moment later, holding a thin, metal visor like the one he was wearing. He stepped forward and handed it to Jim. "Here," he said, "Spare glasses. Fuzzy, but good enough for Romulans. Set it to thermal. They will be cloaked." He turned to Pavel and said, "For everyone else, look for heat waves. They have a higher body temperature than humans do."

Pavel nodded.

"Thank you," Jim said.

"Now go," the old man told them, pointing to the embassy, _"Go!"_

Pavel and Jim turned and started for the main building, the others following close behind.

* * *

Arkady watched the children disappear into the embassy, his mind's eye fixed on the image of the boy holding the dirt-launching gun.

_They know. They have known all along._

Arkady turned and strode immediately back toward his shed.

It was time to move. Fast.

* * *

Jim entered the Russian Embassy and found himself standing at a junction between two long hallways. He glanced left, right and ahead, thinking.

The others rushed in behind him, looking around in confusion.

"Which way is it?" Len asked.

"Split up," said Jim immediately, turning to face the others. "Spock, Nyota, Pavel, go together. Janice, Hikaru, you two go with Scotty. Take the bucket and the dirt launcher. Christine, Gaila, Len, you're with me."

Wordlessly, everyone moved into their groups.

"Stick near the planters and keep dirt nearby as much as you can. If you find the meeting, warn whoever's inside as fast as you can. The Romulans have a higher body temperature than everyone else, and they'll probably be cloaked, so look for stuff like heat waves in the middle of the hall." Jim paused to take a breath, looking around at his friends. He swallowed. This was it. "Good luck," he said.

"Good luck," Spock answered solemnly, starting down the hall to the left, holding up his hand and parting his middle and ring fingers.

"See ye soon, Jim," Scotty called, giving Jim a slight smile and a salute as he, Janice and Hikaru went to the right.

Jim glanced at Len, who nodded once.

"Right," Jim said, "Let's go."

And he started down the center hallway.

* * *

"Nothin' here!" Scotty called as he peered into the door to his left, seeing nothing but an empty office.

"Nope," Hikaru added, one door down across the hall.

"Not here either," Janice added, standing on tiptoe to look into the next door down.

Scotty pushed the dirt launcher over his shoulder and dashed to the next door, trying to look into the small sliver of a window. He jumped, catching sight of a person inside. He landed and turned back to Hikaru. "Hikaru, gimmie a boost!" he called, as Janice ran past to the next door.

"Nothing," Janice said, and dashed ahead down the hall.

"Janice, wait up," Hikaru shouted after her as he laced his fingers together and steadied himself.

Scotty stepped into Hikaru's hands and pushed himself up to look through the window. "Aaugh!" Scotty yelped and grabbed Hikaru's shoulder before he fell over. "Stop moving, Hikaru!" he hissed.

"Hurry up, slowpokes!" Janice called, grinning from thirty feet down the hall.

"Janice, wait up!" Hikaru repeated, "You too, Scotty, what the heck's in there?"

Scotty shook his head. "Nothin'," he answered, "S'nothin'—jes' a statue. Lemme down."

Hikaru unlaced his fingers and straightened up.

"Jeez, you're heavy," he told Scotty, grinning, "Haggis boy."

"Shut up," Scotty replied, shoving Hikaru playfully in the shoulder.

Suddenly a shout came from down the hall.

"Hey, what the—what are _you_ doing here?"

Both boys turned to see a tall man in a red Starfleet uniform dart forward from around the next corner and grab Janice's arm, yanking her back. He turned and shouted down the perpendicular hallway: "Hey, I need some help over here!"

Janice, her eyes wide, shouted at Scotty and Hikaru: "What are you doing? Run!"

Scotty grabbed Hikaru's shoulder. "C'mon!" he said, loudly.

Hikaru froze, looking between Scotty and Janice.

"Hikaru, _RUN!"_ Janice yelled.

"Come on!" Scotty begged, yanking on Hikaru's arm, _"Please!"_

Hikaru looked back at Janice, then turned, handing the bucket to Scotty.

"Run," he said.

"What are ye doin'?" Scotty demanded.

"RUN!" Hikaru repeated, and started running toward Janice and her captor.

Scotty's eyes went wide. He hesitated for a moment, then turned and ran.

Hikaru ran at Janice's captor, shouting: "Let her go, you creep! Let her go!"

He launched himself at the officer, jumping onto the man's back and yanking on his hair, yelling with each tug: "LET—HER—GO!"

The man bellowed in pain. Hikaru felt someone gripping his arms from behind him and then he was yanked bodily away from the man, captured, but taking a handful of the man's hair with him.

A woman's voice sounded from behind him: "Where the hell did these kids come from?"

The man shook his head. "No idea. But we can't let 'em out of here now."

Then the woman's voice again: "We'll keep 'em in one of the security rooms until we can get a chance to talk to Commander Pike."

The man nodded. "Good idea—but there was another one. Should we…?"

"We'll go after him after we get these two squared away."

Janice and Hikaru were led down a long hallway to a small room marked with a Russian word in large, white letters, containing an office and a smallish cell with a chain-link fence and a wooden bench inside.

As his captor led him into the room, Hikaru twisted around. "We have to talk to Commander Pike!" he told her, loudly, "The people in the negotiations are in danger!"

"Sorry 'bout this, kid," his captor, a short, stocky woman in a red Starfleet uniform replied as she shoved Hikaru into the cell.

"_Listen_ to me!" Hikaru yelled at her as Janice was pushed in after him, "There are Romulans here and they're gonna try and assassinate Ambassador…um…Spock's dad! They're gonna assassinate Spock's dad, and we've gotta warn 'em!"

The woman shut the chain-link door and locked it from the outside, slipping the key into her pocket.

"C'mon," she told the other officer, "Let's go find the other one."

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" Hikaru shouted, hanging onto the door and shaking it as the two officers left the room. "People are in danger here! HEY!"

The door of the office swung shut.

Hikaru's shoulders slumped.

"Great," he muttered, turning around.

Janice, who hadn't said a word since Hikaru was captured, snorted.

"What?" Hikaru demanded, looking up at her.

Janice smiled wryly, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. "You are a total dope," she told him. "I _told_ you to _run."_

"Well, they got you, didn't they?" he replied, crossing his arms, "I figured Scotty was better off on his own than you, seeing as how you were the one who'd got captured."

Janice raised her eyebrows. "You thought leaving Scotty alone around _Romulan assassins_ was better than leaving me alone with _Starfleet officers_," she said, flatly.

Hikaru opened his mouth to respond, but slowly closed it as he realized his error.

"C'mon," Janice said, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair and a paper clip out of her pocket and inserting them into the lock of the chain link door.

"You can pick locks?" Hikaru asked her, his eyes wide.

"Yep," Janice nodded, twisting the paper clip to the left.

"Where'dja learn how to do that?" Hikaru asked, watching transfixed as Janice concentrated on her work.

There was a small _click_, and the door swung open.

Janice smiled. "One of the few perks of having an older brother," she replied, putting the bobby pin back into her hair, "Let's go."

* * *

"I don't see anything in here," Nyota said as she pushed open the door to her left, finding nothing. With her free hand—the one that wasn't clutching a handful of dirt—she closed the door and continued down the hall to where Spock stood, looking into another room.

"This room is empty as well," Spock replied, shutting the door.

"What time is it?" Nyota asked him.

Spock checked his watch. "It is six fifteen," he said, "Presumably the meeting has commenced by now."

Up ahead, Pavel called back, "Nyet! Not here!" He ran to where the hallway dead-ended and turned to the right, disappearing around the corner.

Spock and Nyota hurried to catch up.

"Nyota," Spock said as they walked, "There is something you must know."

Nyota stopped to open one of the doors that Pavel had skipped. "I'm listening," she answered, "Nothing here."

"Well, I—" Spock paused, trying to find the right words, "—that is to say, in case of—in the event that—"

Nyota looked over at him. "Yes?" she asked, turning the corner.

Up ahead, Pavel waved them on and turned into the next hallway.

Spock could feel the blood rushing to his face. "In the event that...that our plan does not go exactly as…well, _planned,"_ he trailed off, hesitantly.

Nyota stopped and turned to face him before the next corner. "Go on," she prompted.

Spock forced himself to meet her eyes, his stomach knotting up as she regarded him patiently. "I…I want you to know…that I have always—well, since I first made your acquaintance—I…have always found you to be extremely—"

"_Shhhh!"_

Spock was cut off in midsentence by Pavel who darted around the corner, grabbing Spock and Nyota's arms.

"Pavel, what—" Nyota began, but Pavel interrupted her.

"Shhhhh!" he repeated, putting a finger to his lips, his hazel eyes wide. Slowly, quietly, he pointed around the corner.

Spock and Nyota both leaned forward to look.

At first they saw nothing. Then, in the center of the hall, they saw the faint shimmer of a burly humanoid form: a Romulan.

Spock and Nyota came back around the corner.

Nyota's eyes were wide. Spock's heart had begun to pound. Pavel's hands were shaking.

"_What do we do now?"_ Pavel asked so quietly that Spock and Nyota could barely hear him.

Spock took another quick glance back around the corner, then came back, surveying the hallway, looking for a planter and finding one…across the hallway the Romulan was standing in.

He took a deep breath. "All right," he whispered, "We must surprise him. There is a planter just there." He pointed to the flower bed in question, "We will walk as quietly as possible over to it, take an additional handful of dirt, and—"

He broke off, as footsteps sounded, coming from the hallway the Romulan was standing in.

"We have to surprise him," Pavel repeated, wide-eyed.

"_Shhhh!"_ Nyota put a finger to her mouth and grabbed Spock and Pavel's arms, and the three of them quietly began to back toward the previous corner.

Spock gripped Nyota's arm, tight. There was a planter just a few feet down the last hallway. It wouldn't take much to reach it. Everything was going to be all right…

* * *

Sed tilted his head to one side as he saw just ahead of him, a most curious sight: Three children, backing up into the hallway, as quietly as they could. One girl, and two boys—one small and Terran, and the other taller and…

Sed raised his eyebrows. _Vulcan_.

They were moving quietly, as if afraid to be caught by someone…

It occurred to Sed that his comrade, Rinak, was in the next set of hallways over, and that the children might have seen him. His cloak had been glitching lately.

Sed's heart sunk. The mission had been intended to be that of stealth—he had been instructed to kill anyone who saw him or any of his comrades.

He felt his gut tighten as he began to approach, thinking of his own children. _This _was not supposed to happen. This was not what he'd signed up for.

But…

For the good of the Empire.

Slowly, Sed drew his knife and steeled himself.

_Forgive me._

* * *

Arkady stood at a side door that led into the Embassy. Looking in through the window he saw the thermal outlines of Pavel and two other children—a girl and the Vulcan boy.

Arkady's heart dropped into his stomach as he saw, just behind them, the white-hot figure of a Romulan, holding a raised knife.

Arkady acted immediately, throwing open the door and launching himself at the Romulan.

* * *

Pavel, Spock and Nyota all whirled around at the sudden sound of a door flinging open, just in time to see Arkady charging inside and ramming his shoulder seemingly into thin air in the middle of the hallway.

There came the sound of someone slipping and stumbling into the wall and then a humanoid figure flickered into sight—thin, pale, and bald, with pointed ears and a knife clutched in one hand.

Spock ran back to the next corner, looking down the hallway for the other Romulan. No one was there. He turned back around just as Arkady leapt at the Romulan, one hand reaching for his throat.

The children watched, paralyzed, as the Romulan caught Arkady's wrist and twisted, slicing at the old man's throat.

Arkady batted away the Romulan's hand and reached to the man's throat, gripping where his neck and shoulder met and squeezing hard.

There was the sound of a blade slashing across something soft, and then the Romulan's eyes rolled up into his head, and he went limp, letting go of the old groundskeeper's wrist and slumping to the floor, his knife, covered in a sheen of blood, clattering to the ground.

Arkady straightened up, clutching his thigh and slowly turning to face the children.

The three kids stared at him, speechless.

The old man looked directly at Spock, saying, "On a human, the Vulcan nerve pinch extends to between the first and second vertebrae. But on a Romulan, you have to reach between the second and third. Remember that, boy."

* * *

For a moment, all was silent. Then Pavel, noticing the small, red puddle growing on the floor next to the old man's foot, blurted out, "Mr. Arkady, you're hurt!"

Arkady glanced down at his leg, as if noticing the wound for the first time.

He nodded once, grimly. "I'll tie it up for now. We have bigger problems."

He leaned against the wall, pulling a stained handkerchief out of his pocket and started to tie it around his leg.

"Pavel, do an old man a favor and bring in the things I've left outside the door," he told Pavel, and Pavel nodded, hurrying outside.

Arkady turned back to his leg in silence.

Nyota and Spock stood there, shifting uncomfortably. Spock peered around Arkady at the unconscious Romulan, swallowing.

"Um…excuse me, Sir?" Nyota asked.

Arkady looked up at her briefly.

"Do…do you need a bigger cloth?" she asked him, hesitantly taking a handful of her shirt.

Arkady shook his head. "It's all right," he answered, "Don't worry about me. But I appreciate it…" he trailed off, waiting.

"Oh. Nyota," Nyota told him, "it's Nyota."

The old man nodded. "I appreciate it, Nyota."

"How did you know how to do that?" Spock asked Arkady. "You are a groundskeeper."

Arkady tried to smile but managed a grimace, finishing tying the handkerchief and pushing off the wall. "I have not always been a groundskeeper," he said.

At that moment, Pavel reentered the room, dragging behind him a hoverbarrow full of dirt and an electric leaf blower.

"Is this what you meant, Mr. Arkady?" asked Pavel.

"Da," Arkady said, limping toward him. "I thought you might want a larger supply of ammunition."

"There is another Romulan," Spock told Arkady, pointing down the hall. "He will have heard us."

Arkady nodded, leaning on the hoverbarrow. "I know, boy," he answered, "there are five."

* * *

Jim looked back down the hallway at the orange heat outlines of Len, Gaila and Christine, all of whom were looking into rooms, checking to see if they had found the meeting.

"Anything?" he asked, cupping his left hand beneath his right, which was clenched around a fistful of dirt.

"Nope," Gaila answered.

"Uh-uh," Christine called.

"Nothing," Len said.

Jim looked left and right down the perpendicular hallway, seeing no one.

He stopped for a moment and pushed the visor up onto his forehead, unused to seeing everything in terms of heat.

Len appeared at his side.

"You all right?" he asked.

Jim nodded. "Yeah. The visor is kind of weird, though…it's a little disorienting." He flipped the visor back over his eyes as Gaila and Christine caught up to them. "Let's go."

They continued down the hall, checking doors.

Jim stopped two doors from the next junction and opened the door on his left. Nothing—just a closet. He closed it, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his arm.

"Jim?" Len was looking at him from across the hall.

Jim pushed the visor up off his eyes again, gritting his teeth.

Len walked over to him. "You okay?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I'm—" he broke off, shutting his eyes as he felt another spark of pain.

Len frowned at him. "No, you're not," he said, "Just wait here a minute, Jim."

"We can't," Jim told Len, "we have to keep looking."

"What's going on?" Gaila asked, appearing behind the two boys with Christine beside her.

Len hesitated, throwing a sidelong glance at Jim.

"Jim's—" he began, but Jim cut him off.

"It's nothing," Jim told Gaila, "I'm fine."

Gaila raised her eyebrows and didn't speak for a moment. Then she nodded, gave Jim an expectant look and said, "Then what are we waiting for? C'mon, slowpokes."

And she turned and started off down the hall, turning left.

Christine scurried by after her, glancing at Len and giggling into her hands.

Len looked back at Jim, his expression annoyed.

Jim grinned and flipped his visor back down.

He took one step around the corner and froze.

Standing at the very end of the hallway, five doors down, was the white-hot thermal outline of a Romulan.

Jim darted forward, grabbing Gaila by the arm and yanking her back.

"Jim, what are you—" she hissed, but Jim clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her back around the corner of the junction.

Christine and Len followed them, confused looks on their faces.

Jim let Gaila go and pushed the visor up onto his forehead, putting a finger to his lips.

He pointed around the corner, mouthing: _Romulans._

Slowly and quietly, Len, Gaila and Christine peered around the corner and saw the faint shimmer of heat waves at the end of the hall.

Jim looked with them, flipping the visor back over his eyes, watching as two other Romulans walked across the hall, meeting with the third and moving to the left, out of sight.

"Come on," Jim whispered to his group and started around the corner.

Len yanked him back. "Are you crazy?" he hissed, "You'll get killed!"

"They'll lead us to the negotiations," Jim answered, "We can warn the negotiators!"

"They'll catch you!" Len's eyes were wide.

"Oh, for_ cryin' out loud_, we're gonna lose 'em!" Gaila pushed by Jim and Len and started quietly down the hallway, Christine hurrying after her.

Jim, freeing himself from Len's grip, followed and Len, throwing up his hands in frustration, walked after him.

* * *

Jim made his way to the front of the group and crept quietly along after the three Romulans, constantly stopping to keep a fair distance between them.

He darted from doorway to doorway, flattening himself against each door in case the Romulans turned…but they never did.

The Romulans led Jim and his group northwest into the embassy down myriad hallways for what felt like forever.

Then, just as Jim was starting to think they were nearing the north end of the building, they turned left and started for a small door at the end of the corridor, with two red-shirted Starfleet officers posted outside it.

Jim's stomach flipped over as he watched the Romulans steadily approaching the door, drawing long knives from their belts.

_The negotiations._

The guards couldn't see the Romulans coming—they didn't know what to look for. They were sitting ducks.

Jim looked down at the dirt clod clutched in his hand. He made a snap decision.

He stepped out into the hallway behind the Romulans and flung the dirt clod, shouting, "HEY!"

Through the visor, he saw the Romulans turn as the dirt clod splattered onto one's back.

Jim froze. He heard the human guards shouting ahead:

"HEY! YOU!"

Then the Romulans started back in Jim's direction.

Jim turned back toward his group, shouting: "RUN!"

And they ran.

* * *

Jim tore off his visor and sprinted around the next corner behind Gaila, Christine and Len.

_A planter. _He had to find a planter.

But there were three of them—three adult Romulan men, all of them trained assassins, and all of them wearing cloaking devices.

And Jim had the only visor.

Jim could hear the Romulans' feet pounding on the floor behind him. Every moment that passed they seemed to be closer.

His heart raced with terror as Gaila tore to the right around another corner.

He had no plan, no way to escape.

Just then a small figure appeared in the hall, several doors down, waving his arms up and down, shouting: "Here! Over here!"

_Pavel._

Jim put in an extra burst of speed, sprinting toward the small boy, his lungs burning.

Pavel was less than thirty feet away now, and he was shouting: "GET DOWN! JIM, GET DOWN!"

_Get down, what—_

Jim saw around the corner of the hallway Pavel was standing in and immediately understood.

He, Len, Gaila and Christine dove to the floor in front of Pavel as, from around the corner of the next hallway came Arkady, Spock, Nyota, Janice, Hikaru and Scotty, armed with the dirt launcher and the bucket, a hoverbarrow full of dirt, and an electric leaf blower.

"NOW!" Arkady cried, and Nyota pulled the trigger on the leaf blower and held it behind the hoverbarrow, coating the Romulans with a fine spray of dirt.

Scotty loaded the dirt launcher and started shooting, and Hikaru, Pavel and Janice hurled dirt clods from the hoverbarrow.

Under a hail of dirt, Spock leapt at one of the Romulans and grabbed him at the base of his neck, stretching his fingers to reach down another two inches down the assassin's spine.

The Romulan tried to pry Spock's fingers away, but then went limp, crashing to the floor, hard.

Spock stepped back to see Arkady doing the same thing, moving away from the other unconscious Romulan, clutching his thigh, which had begun to bleed again.

The storm of dirt stopped.

Arkady leaned against the wall and slipped to the floor, and Pavel ran over to help him.

Jim stood and turned to the others.

"Thanks," he said, breathing hard. He turned back to the unconscious Romulans on the floor.

He frowned.

Jim looked up. "There were three of them," he said, "We followed three of them."

His eyes swept the room, going from Spock, to Arkady, to Len.

"Where's the third one?" Len asked.

"The last I saw, there were three going down that last hallway, going…" Jim broke off. His blood ran cold. "…going to the meeting." He turned to the others, his eyes wide. "Come on!"

Jim snatched a handful of dirt from the hoverbarrow and started back the way he'd come, as fast as he could.

As he turned the corner he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Spock running right behind him, his eyes focused but his face much paler than usual.

Jim turned the next corner to the right, sprinting down the long hallway to the dead-end, and then turning left down the hall the meeting room was on. He could see the door at the end of the hall starting to swing open. The two officers posted there were slumped against the wall, each one lying in a dark puddle. It was with a leap of horror as he drew closer that Jim realized they were dead.

The door was all the way open now. Jim could hear voices coming from inside, adult voices.

This was it.

Jim reached the door, shoving it aside and entering the meeting room, flipping his visor over his eyes as he did so. He saw the Romulan immediately, a white-hot outline in the corner of the room.

Spock burst into the room just behind Jim, his arm raised, his fist clenched around a dirt clod.

Jim felt a hand grab his arm and a loud, angry voice demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Jim ignored the voice and pointed to the Romulan, shouting, "SPOCK! THE CORNER!"

Spock turned, saw, and let fly.

Loud, angry adult voices sounded all around:

"What the hell—"

"How'd these kids get in here?"

Jim started to struggle against his captor's rip and his visor slipped off. He saw Ambassador Sarek seated across the room, staring at Spock, and Christopher Pike standing just a few feet away from Jim and his captor, wide-eyed, his mouth agape.

Just then, voices sounded from outside:

"Oh my God, I think he's dead!"

"_Help_ me!"

Then the door flew open for a second time and six more kids burst in, all shouting at the top of their lungs and flinging dirt clods.

Chaos erupted in the meeting room.

Spock dashed for the nearest planter and starting hurling dirt at the Romulan, and Scotty, carrying the dirt launcher and following Spock's lead, loaded the weapon and pulled the trigger, sending a spray of dirt catapulting across the room, hitting the Romulan squarely in the back of his head.

Nyota and Pavel darted between two tall guards toward Spock and started hurling their dirt clods, as Janice and Hikaru burst through the door with the hoverbarrow and joined the fray.

Christopher Pike stepped forward, completely stunned until he saw, in the corner of the room, one of the security guards get shoved out of the way by some invisible force.

Then a dirt clod flew across the room and smacked into thin air. The air flickered, revealing the outline of a man, clutching at his face where green blood had begun to seep through.

Pike grabbed a handful of dirt from the nearest planter and hurled it at the flickering figure and moments later, every other adult in the room was doing the same thing.

Gaila leapt onto the back of Jim's captor and started beating his head with closed fists.

Jim felt the grip on his arm slacken and he jerked free, stumbling forward a step. Immediately he saw the assassin.

The Romulan was almost completely covered in dirt…but he hadn't given up yet.

Wielding a long knife, he staggered forward toward the table of negotiators, straight for Ambassador Sarek.

Jim didn't stop to think.

He ran across the room, scrambled over the negotiation table, and launched himself at the Romulan.

* * *

Jim felt the wind rush from his lungs as he slammed into the assassin, knocking him off balance and away from the negotiators.

He hit the floor hard on his side.

The Romulan, almost completely covered in dirt, rolled to face Jim, raising his knife.

Jim scrambled backward and hurled the dirt clod clutched in his hand.

It hit the Romulan squarely in the face, and the man unleashed a howl of pain.

Under a rain of dirt, the Romulan started to crawl slowly toward Jim, his hand outstretched, reaching for Jim's throat.

Then a stream of green blood shot down his arm, and he began to melt.

Jim watched in horror as the Romulan's flesh started to disintegrate into nothing, steam rising from his shrinking body, green blood pooling on the floor around him. In a few short seconds his screams died away and he crumpled like a ball of paper, until nothing was left but a pile of black clothing, a small backpack, and a long, bloody knife, all beneath a layer of cool, soft Iowa loam.

* * *

Twelve hours later:

Jim sat with his back against the wall, staring out the window of the small office, silent, and lost in thought.

Standing behind the huge, mahogany desk in the corner, Nyota was absentmindedly picking through newspaper articles and random documents. Spock was standing beside her, seemingly studying one of the newspaper articles, however every few seconds, he snuck a glance at Nyota, as if trying to pluck up the courage to say something to her.

Len, as restless as ever, was pacing in front of the couch, where Christine sat cross-legged, watching him contentedly.

Gaila, who had earlier professed that she was _bored out of her skull,_ was helping Scotty to dismantle the tall lamp in the corner. Janice and Hikaru were lying on the floor, staring at the skylight in the ceiling, and Pavel was curled up in an armchair across the room, fast asleep.

All of them had been taken to the small office after the chaos in the meeting room, and sworn to secrecy by Deputy Riley—the ginger-haired man from the crop circle. Riley then told them that they would be able to go home once the meeting was over. At first, all of them had protested. They had, after all, just saved the negotiators from certain death…but after awhile it became clear that the young Deputy wasn't going to budge, and the kids were too tired to argue anyways.

Deputy Riley was now standing in front of the office door, guarding them, the radio in his belt occasionally sounding off from people in different parts of the embassy.

Jim ran his finger along the rim of his empty mug that had earlier contained hot chocolate—around noon, someone from the kitchens had taken pity on the kids and sent up hot chocolate and sandwiches—thinking.

It was still fresh in his mind—watching the assassin melt before him, and then being pulled to his feet by someone and quietly led from the room.

He remembered stepping through the door into the hallway to see Len tying his jacket around one of the officer's torsos, and Christine pressing her tiny hands down on the officer's chest, trying to stop the flow of blood.

One of the guards leading Jim and the others from the meeting room had knelt to check on the other injured officer.

"_Don't bother,"_ Len had said, grimly, _"He's dead."_

Someone had run off to call an ambulance, and two of the guards had replaced Len and Christine.

Then they were taken to the office.

Twice then since being sworn to secrecy the kids had seen someone from the outside—first in the morning, when someone had poked his head in to say that Arkady and the injured officer had been taken to the hospital and stitched up, and were going to be okay, and then in the afternoon, asking if anyone needed to use the bathroom.

Now the sun had set, and Jim felt like he could sleep for a year, if only he could get the sight of the melting Romulan out of his head…

Just then the door swung open, and everyone's heads turned to see Christopher Pike enter.

Silence fell.

Jim, along with everyone else, stood, waiting.

Pike looked around the room, a weary smile on his face.

"Your parents are waiting outside," he said, "You can go home now."

For a moment no one moved.

Then all of the kids jumped to their feet, running past Pike and out the door. Deputy Riley, with a slight smile on his face, followed them.

Only Jim hung back, waiting, listening to the cries of happiness, of relief, that came from the hallway.

Pike looked at him, waiting. When Jim said nothing, Pike walked over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Jim," he said, "You did something today that most people in your place wouldn't have ever considered doing. Nobody believed you about the Romulans, and so you got your friends together and took things into your own hands. The last four Romulan assassins have been taken into custody and the negotiators are safe. You saved lives today, Jim. You should be proud of yourself."

Jim's eyes dropped to the floor. "I know," he said, quietly, "it's not that I'm worried about."

"Hey," Pike said, "Chin up."

Jim looked up at him.

Pike smiled. "Starfleet could use a man like you."

He took his hand from Jim's shoulder and ambled to the mahogany desk, straightening the strewn papers. "Now go on, you've been stuck in this room all day. Go home and get some rest. Besides…" Pike glanced back over his shoulder at Jim, "…your mother's waiting for you."

Jim's eyes went wide. He dashed to the door and then stopped, his fingers on the handle. He turned to face Pike, who was looking at him.

"Thank you, Sir," Jim said.

Pike turned around to face Jim. "No," he answered, "Thank _you_, Jim."

Jim nodded once to Pike, then turned and flung open the door.

He heard a voice call his name and he looked to the left. His heart leapt, and he ran, down the hall, and into his mother's waiting arms.


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue

Two weeks later.

Pavel stepped up to the iron side gate at the Russian Embassy, bundled in a heavy jacket, his arms crossed against the cold—the November weather had finally made it to Riverside.

He swiped his father's card key over the scanner and the lock clicked, and Pavel stepped inside, shutting the gate behind him.

"Mr. Arkady?" he asked, looking around the grounds, seeing no one.

Sticking his hands into his pockets, Pavel approached Arkady's shed, raising his hand to knock on the door.

"_Come in, Pavel," _came Arkady's voice from inside.

Pavel jumped. Stunned, he slowly pushed open the shed door to find the old man standing before his cluttered desk, pouring a mug of tea from a black kettle.

"_How did you know I was there?" _Pavel asked, wide-eyed.

Arkady turned to Pavel, gesturing to the small screen mounted on the wall, showing an image of the side gate.

"_I thought it would be a good idea to have one of these installed, after what happened two weeks ago," _Arkady said, _"Come in, boy, you look like you're about to freeze solid."_

Pavel stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and Arkady handed him a mug of tea, gesturing to a small folding chair beside the door.

"_Um…" _Pavel began, as he sat down, _"I just…I wanted to thank you, Mr. Arkady, for what you did. If you hadn't come to help Spock, Nyota and me, well…" _he trailed off, not wanting to say what came next.

Arkady looked over at him, and Pavel fell silent.

"_There is no need for thanks, boy," _he said, _"I did what had to be done." _

Pavel nodded once but remained silent, trying to figure out how to word his next sentence.

"_Mr. Arkady," he began, "…that stuff you did…with the Romulans, and the dirt…I—I wanted to—I was just wondering—"_

"_You want to know how I knew how to do all of those things," _Arkady finished for him, taking drink of tea.

Pavel nodded. _"Da," _he said, _"And how you knew about the Romulans and the dirt."_

Arkady leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. _"Well, boy," _he began, _"I wasn't always a groundskeeper. There are quite a few stories I could tell you about my days before I came here."_

He fell silent, and Pavel waited, watching him.

"_Could I hear one, Sir?" _Pavel asked.

Arkady looked back at Pavel. He seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded. _"Da. I suppose you can."_

"_Will you tell me about what you did before you became a groundskeeper?"_ Pavel asked eagerly, his eyes wide.

Arkady took another drink of his tea. _"Da. I will. But first, we must start at the beginning."_ He cleared his throat. _"I grew up in St. Petersburg, near to where your father lived when he was a boy," _he said.

"_Is that how you knew him?" _Pavel asked.

"_Oh no, boy. No. This was many years before your father was born. I met your father much later."_

Pavel tilted his head to the side as Arkady continued:

"_When I was eighteen, I was selected by the Russian Interplanetary Secret Service to start training to become an agent."_

Pavel's eyes widened. _"Mr. Arkady, you were a spy?" _he gasped.

Arkady nodded. _"Da. I was. But Pavel—"_ he gave Pavel a bemused smile, _"—perhaps your father has not told you—Arkady is not my last name. It is my first name. You do not have to call me 'Mr.' Arkady."_

Pavel blinked. _"Oh," _he said, _"What is your last name, Sir?"_

Arkady took a long drink of tea, and said, smiling, _"It's Chekov."_

* * *

"Grounded for a week," Scotty repeated, raising his eyebrows at Hikaru, "Look, I'm sorry lad, but I jes' fail in _all_ ways to find that an impressive punishment."

Though the air was cold, the sun was shining and the sky was a brilliant, cloud-patched blue, and the kids had decided to spend the day at the playground.

Currently they sat in their normal meeting circle, perched atop old crates and tires, deep in conversation.

"Hey, I had to babysit Yumiko all day!" Hikaru protested, "You know how hard it is to babysit a hyper four-year-old?"

"Grounded for a week, Hikaru?" Gaila asked, popping a stick of gum into her mouth, "That's really not all that bad. I got grounded for a _month_ once."

Around the group, everyone's heads turned to Gaila in awe.

"When was _that?"_ demanded Len.

"Jeez, Gaila, that's like a world record or something!" Jim said, incredulously, "What'd you do?"

"Oh, nothing you'd be interested in," Gaila replied, smiling coyly.

"But you didn't get that because of the embassy!" Hikaru protested, "Seriously, doesn't anybody else think getting grounded for a week sucks?"

Gaila shook her head. "Nope."

Christine did the same. "I got to stare at Leonard out my window the whole time, so it was okay," she sighed, dreamily.

"Y'see?" Scotty asked as Len cringed and edged away from Christine, "It's jes' not that impressive."

Hikaru crossed his arms. "Okay then, what did _you_ have to do?"

"Laundry," Scotty replied, "Me whole family's. For a _week."_

Jim grinned, leaning back against the red antique car and looking up into the sky as Scotty began to detail the sheer amount of laundry a family of seven generates—"Even me bloody _dog!_ Me mum knitted the old beagle a sweater!"

"I have to agree, that's pretty bad," said Janice, nodding with Scotty, "I got a bunch of extra chores to do too."

"Sucks to be sworn to secrecy," Jim said, staring wistfully up at the sky and then turning to Pavel, asking, "Pavel, what about you?"

Pavel, who had so far been silent throughout the conversation, looked up. "Huh?" he asked.

"What happened to ye after the embassy?" asked Scotty.

Pavel blinked. "I…went home and had dinner and went to bed," he said. "My father talked to me about being safe and then told me he was proud of me for helping to stop the Romulans."

Gaila's eyebrows went up. "You mean you didn't get punished?" she asked.

"After everything that happened, you just got off scot-free?" Len demanded.

"Oh, like you didn't!" scoffed Hikaru.

"Why, what happened to you?" Nyota asked Len.

Len gave a sheepish grin. "You really want to know?" he asked.

"Well, yeah!" said Gaila, crossing her arms expectantly.

"_Weeeeell…"_ Len trailed off, hesitating, "…if ya _really_ want to know, I got sentenced to cookie-deprivation for a month, although Gran forgot all about it last week."

Jim snorted. "Lucky."

"Well, _I_ think my punishment tops _all_ of your punishments," Nyota spoke up with a knowing smile.

"Oh really, lassie?" Scotty raised his eyebrows, skeptically. "Jes' what did you have tae do?"

"I got grounded for two weeks—" she began.

"Well, that's not _that_ bad—" Jim interrupted her.

"—in addition to having to empty my mom's worm composters in the garden," Nyota finished.

Jim blinked. _"Oh," _he said.

"Eeeeeeew!" shrieked Christine.

"That's _nasty!"_ said Hikaru, a horrified expression on his face.

"Didn't need to know, Ny, I've had enough experience with worm bins!" Janice said, shuddering.

Pavel looked at Nyota, frowning. "What ees a 'worm bin'?" he asked curiously, then recoiled as he was hit by a wave of protest.

"All right, lassie, ye win," Scotty said, wincing, "Unless Spock's got somethin' better, 'tho I doubt it…"

"Yeah, where is Spock?" Jim asked, frowning, "He said he'd be here."

"He's gonna be late," Nyota answered, "He said he had something to take care of first."

"Well, it is Thanksgivin'," Scotty said.

"Yes, because they _totally_ celebrate Thanksgiving on Vulcan," Len said sarcastically.

Scotty shrugged. "Ye never know," he said, "his mum's American."

A brief silence fell, broken by Jim, who spoke up, pointing toward the end of Derby Drive: "There he is."

Sure enough, Spock's mother's car was approaching the playground, and a few moments later pulled up at the curb. Spock got out, heading over to them as the car turned and drove away.

"Hey!" Jim called, grinning, "Glad you could make it."

"What the heck took ya so long?" Len asked, smirking and crossing his arms.

Spock did not answer immediately. He was staring at the ground, his shoulders slightly slumped, a blank look on his face.

Nyota stared at him, her expression concerned. "Spock?" she asked, "Are you okay?"

Jim and Len exchanged glances, their smiles fading.

"Spock?" Jim asked.

Spock slowly lifted his head and regarded his friends, all of whom had fallen silent. He swallowed, his heart wrenching as he began to recite the speech he had been waiting to give them:

"My…" he began, "…my father would like for me to thank all of you, for saving his life. He wishes he could be here in person to tell say this but he cannot." He looked around the circle, catching each of his friends' eyes as he continued: "He would like me to tell you that he is forever grateful, and to say goodbye…before…before we leave."

Sitting on the ancient tires and crates, the kids shared confused looks.

"Leave?" Jim asked, frowning, "Spock, what are you talking about? Are you going somewhere?"

Spock took a deep breath. "Tomorrow, my parents and I are leaving…to go back to Vulcan."

Silence fell.

Around the circle, everyone exchanged wide-eyed looks, all except Nyota, who simply stared at Spock, shocked.

Finally, the silence was broken by Scotty, who, his mouth agape, asked, "Spock, you're…you're not movin' back tae Vulcan, are ye?"

Gravely, Spock met his eyes and nodded.

Jim stared at Spock, incredulous. "Why?" he asked.

"Not because of what happened at the embassy?" Nyota demanded, her dark eyes wide.

Spock nodded again. "In light of recent events, my parents have decided that it would be safer and…more practical, for my education…if we returned to live on Vulcan," he explained.

"But that—that's not _fair_, Spock!" Gaila burst out.

"Spock, you just got here a month ago," Jim told him, getting to his feet, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They can't just drag you back to with 'em after you've only been here a month!" Hikaru said, frowning.

"Unfortunately they can," Spock answered, "They _are,_ after all, my parents."

"But you just got here!" Pavel protested, standing and staring at Spock, wide-eyed.

Len got to his feet as well. "For cryin' out loud, Spock," he demanded, his expression almost hurt, "Who's gonna help me talk sense into Jim when he comes up with another crazy scheme?"

At this, the corners of Spock's mouth twitched up a fraction. "Well, _Leonard,"_ he began, "I am sure that you of all people will be successful in finding someone."

Len rolled his eyes.

Despite himself, Jim smiled. He stepped forward.

"Well," he began, "If this is really it, then…I think that Spock should choose our first game." He looked at Spock, waiting.

Spock's lips quirked again, a barely perceptible smile. "It would be my honor, Jim," he said. A beat passed, and then he turned toward Len. "Len," he began, stepping forward.

Len frowned suspiciously at Spock. "Yeah…?" he asked, apprehensively.

Spock's small smile widened by a fraction, and he reached out and tapped Len on the arm and said, calmly, "Tag."

Len's mouth dropped open in shock as Spock darted out of reach and started running across the playground.

Scotty's eyes widened. The bubble Gaila had been blowing popped. Slowly, Nyota began to smile.

Jim, letting out an incredulous laugh, started to back away from Len, and the others began to do the same.

"I don't believe it," Len gaped at Spock, "That pointy-eared _hobgoblin!"_ He stood there for a moment more, and then ran after Spock, shouting: "Spock, you are _SO DEAD!"_

Watching Len tear across the playground, Jim and Nyota exchanged a glance, both smiling, both thinking the same thing.

If this was it, then at least they could make it fun.

* * *

Tag lasted for a good half hour before morphing into the more sophisticated hide-and-go-seek freeze tag, which, with his Vulcan eyesight and logistic skills, Spock won with ease. From there, the kids ran to Hikaru's house for lunch and leaf-diving contests, which were, amazingly enough, dominated by Christine, who had a habit of doing a series of crazy dance moves before jumping into the leaf piles.

After lunch, they headed into the woods to climb trees, where Gaila gave everyone a demonstration of the game Hunted, showing how she looked around for traps and covered her tracks before climbing nimbly into the branches above and pretending to fall asleep, camouflaging herself with leaves and twigs.

The rest of the afternoon was then dedicated to one long, glorious game of Spaceship, during which Captain Jim and his First Officer Spock managed to rescue their Chief of Engineering Scotty, Lieutenant Gaila, and Navigator Pavel from the clutches of the Romulans, only to find out via a transmission translated by Lieutenant Nyota that the star nearest them was about to go into super nova. As Gaila, Scotty and Pavel were taken to Sickbay by Chief Medical Officer Len and Nurse Christine, the ship was flown to safety by Helmsman Hikaru and navigated by Yeoman Janice in Pavel's stead.

As the mission ended and the crew docked in the space port, things started to quiet down, and the kids settled down to study cloud animals in the color-streaked sky as the sun inched slowly toward the horizon.

"That's an alligator," said Scotty, pointing up at one of the clouds overhead.

Len looked up at it, frowning. "Nuh-uh," he shook his head, "It's a crocodile. Look at the snout."

"It's an _alligator,"_ Scotty argued.

"Crocodile," Len insisted, "Alligators have longer snouts. Jim, back me up here—doesn't that cloud look like a crocodile?"

Jim, from his seat on the hood of the red antique car, grinned and replied: "I dunno, Len, I think it looks kind of like a chupacabra. Spock, whadda you think?"

"Chupa-what?" asked Pavel, frowning.

Spock studied the cloud animal. "Based upon the length of the tail and the crest on its head, I believe it resembles most closely an oversized bearded dragon," he remarked, "Nyota?"

"Hmm…a salamander," Nyota concluded, gazing up at the cloud in question with a small smile.

"It's kind of an ugly newt-lookin' thing," Gaila spoke up, "Looks like the lizards I used to see in the jungle on Orion."

"No, no, it's one of those running lizards," Hikaru argued, "Y'know, the ones that run on water?"

"On their hind legs?" Janice tilted her head to the side, "Yeah, I could see that."

"Pavel, what about you?" asked Jim.

"I am not sure…I do not know lizards very well…although from this angle eet reminds me of a dead cockroach," Pavel answered.

"I think it looks like a puppy!" Christine piped up, cheerfully.

Everyone turned to stare at Christine in amazement.

"What?" Christine asked.

Just then came a faint voice in the distance, calling in a singsong: _"Montgomery Sco-ooott!"_

Scotty sat up, huffing irritably. "That'd be me mum, lads n' lassies." A grim smile on his face, he stood. "Spock," he said, turning to Spock, "Well…it was fun hangin' out. Keep in touch, a'right?"

Spock nodded solemnly. "I will, Scotty," he answered.

Scotty smiled and started off toward the dirt road, waving as he did so. "Bye, all!"

"Bye, Scotty!" Jim called, waving back.

"I still say it's a crocodile!" Len shouted, grinning.

Scotty waved Len off and disappeared down Derby Drive.

Hikaru glanced back at the horizon. "I should probably get going too," he said, "My dad's on shore leave this week, and we're gonna pick him up from the shuttle port." He stood, waving. "See you guys later," he said as he started to walk to Farmer Barrett's cornfield, "Good luck on Vulcan, Spock!"

The others said their goodbyes to Hikaru and then he disappeared into the corn.

A few more minutes passed, and then Janice and Christine parted together, Janice half-dragging Christine away as Christine waved frantically, calling happily, "Bye, Leonard!"

Len managed a weak smile and waved back to her with everyone else: "Bye, Christine."

Gaila then checked the time a few minutes after Janice and Christine had left, rolling her eyes and declaring that she'd been given a curfew, and started away down Arbor Street, popping a stick of gum in her mouth and starting to chew, waving back at those left before she disappeared around the corner.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Pavel rose and parted as well, taking the shortcut through Farmer Barrett's cornfield, a small, tired smile on his face.

A peaceful quiet descended upon the playground, and Jim and Len climbed onto the hood of the red antique car, stretching out and watching the clouds drift by in the November breeze. Spock and Nyota sat on a pair of old tires and talked, for too short an eternity, until the first stars began to appear, and Spock's mother pulled up in front of the playground.

As the small car came to a stop, Spock glanced back to his mother in the driver's seat, who smiled at him and turned the car off, content to wait until he was ready.

Spock turned back to Nyota and they both rose in silence.

"Well," Nyota began, her dark eyes meeting Spock's, "…I guess this is it."

Spock nodded. "I suppose it is."

There was a brief silence, and then they both spoke at once, Nyota saying, "Before you go—" and Spock saying, "I need to—"

They broke off at the same time, blushing.

"You first," Nyota told him, giving him a solemn smile.

Spock took a deep breath. "At the embassy," he said, "there was something I wanted to tell you, but never had the chance."

Nyota nodded. "I remember," she said.

Spock met her eyes. "You once told me you were ordinary," he said, "but I believe that statement was incorrect. I believe…" he paused for a moment, looking as if he were trying to find the right words, but then looked into Nyota's eyes again and pushed on: "Nyota, you are not ordinary. You are…extraordinary. And I am glad I know you."

Nyota gave Spock a quivering smile. "I'm glad I know you, Spock," she answered.

She took his hands in her own, and they stood there for a moment in silence. Then Nyota, looking as if she were about to cry, pulled Spock into a hug.

Spock, blinking in surprise, put his arms around Nyota and hugged her back.

They broke apart, and Nyota drew her sleeve over her eyes. "I'll be listening for you on the radio," she told him, shakily.

"And I for you," Spock answered.

Nyota bit her lip, and then took a deep breath, composing herself. Standing straight, she held up her right hand and parted her fingers in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Spock," she told him.

The corners of Spock's mouth curved into a smile.

"Goodbye, Nyota," he answered.

Slowly, not wanting to turn away, Nyota walked backwards from the playground to the sidewalk, waving to Spock as she went.

Spock watched her as she walked to the end of the sidewalk, waving in return.

Then Nyota passed behind Farmer Barrett's house, and disappeared from view.

* * *

Jim and Len watched in silence as Nyota disappeared behind Farmer Barrett's house and Spock slowly lowered his arm to his side.

The two boys exchanged glances.

Jim looked at Len and shrugged, as if to say, _Well, looks like it's time._

He hopped down off the antique car and headed over to Spock, who turned to face him.

"Guess this is it," Jim said.

Spock nodded. He was silent for a moment, and then met Jim's ice blue eyes. "Jim," he began, trailing off. He hesitated for a moment, then gave a solemn smile and said, simply, "I shall always be your friend."

Jim smiled in return. "You'll keep in touch, right?" he asked.

Spock nodded again. "Indeed," he began, "but Jim, the statistical likelihood that we will see each other again is—"

"Spock." Jim looked Spock in the eye. "You'll be back."

Spock was silent for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes," he said, "Yes. I will."

There was silence for a moment more, and then Spock held up his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Good luck, Jim."

Jim nodded. "Good luck, Spock." He stuck out his hand, and Spock shook it once, then let go.

Then, slowly, Spock started for his mother's car and got inside, closing the door and buckling his seatbelt, and the car rumbled to life, turning and heading away down Derby Drive.

Jim and Len waved as it disappeared around the corner, and then Jim walked back to the red antique car, climbing up top again next to Len.

Len let out a long breath. "Believe it or not, I'm gonna miss that pointy-eared hobgoblin," he told Jim.

Jim smiled. "He'll be back," he said.

He laid back and put his hands behind his head, looking up into the fading sky. Len did the same, and the two boys were quiet for awhile.

Then Len spoke: "I never found out what happened to you."

Jim blinked. "Huh?" he asked.

"After the embassy," Len said, "What happened?"

Jim shrugged. "Surprisingly little," he said. "I mean, my mom had come home and all, so she kind of missed all the sneaking out and car-stealing stuff. Really all I had to do was clean up Frank's mess."

Len looked up at the stars. "Yeah," he said, "I still can't believe he's gone. That your mom kicked him out."

Jim grinned. "Oh, Len, you should've been there," he sighed, reveling in the memory, "She just marched inside, walked up to him, slapped him across the face, and told him to get out and never come back."

"And he did?" Len marveled.

Jim nodded. "She threatened to call the cops on him," he added, "Tell 'em what he'd been doing—about the drinking and…well…you know."

There was a short pause, and then Jim grinned.

"What?" Len asked.

"I was just thinking," Jim said, "…after all of this…I'm really glad you decided to come monster-hunting."

Len smiled. "Me too," he answered. He looked out to the horizon. "We probably oughta head for my house. I bet they're waiting."

" 'Kay." Jim jumped off the roof of the car and started for the cornfield, Len at his side. "I hope your grandma showed my mom a thing or two about cooking, 'cause it's just been burnt toast and leftover pizza since she got back…"

"Gran said she would," Len answered, "she said she'd show her how to make that roasted sweet potato dish. You know, the one with the marshmallow on top."

"Oh _man,"_ Jim shut his eyes, imagining it. "I could eat a barrel of that stuff."

Len laughed. "We're glad you approve."

Jim slung his arm around Len's shoulders and they walked off into the cornfield, taking the shortcut home.

Just before he disappeared into the corn after Len, Jim turned to face the playground, the cornfields to the south, the dirt road leading to the shipyard, and the woods.

He smiled.

THE END

**Author's Note:** First, I would like to thank my two editors, who I will call General Chang and Admiral Bonsai, as they don't have accounts on (to anyone with those account names, sorry), for all their help on this story, giving me praise when I needed it, giving me constructive criticism when I was getting too swelled of a head, pushing me to keep going when I started to lose interest, and helping me keep this story on track for the past eleven months. Many of the ideas and brilliant lines came from them, and I really appreciate everything they've done to move this story along. You guys are awesome.

Second: To everyone who read/reviewed/favorited this story, thank you so much for taking the time to do so. I hope you enjoyed it.

Third: "Nyanya" is Russian for nanny and "Privyet" is Russian for hello (informal). (See Chapters 1 and 3.) And thus I give you extent of my knowledge on the Russian language.

Fourth: Please Note: The plot of this story is © OceanTiger13, 2010, All Rights Reserved, whereas most of the characters and the setting are NOT. (Luciana Kaddington and Arkady are MINE, ALL MINE, MWAHAHA!)

Last: And while Star Trek does not belong to me, _The Adventures of Hannedy Rogue, Space Pirate_ in fact does; it is © OceanTiger13 2009, All Rights Reserved. (See Chapter 5).

Thank you very much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!

~OceanTiger13

PS: To those of you who wanted a sequel, stay tuned...


End file.
